The Danger in Their History
by jenlovesbones
Summary: Booth and Brennen are both set to leave their partnership behind for a year. One does. one doesn't. True B&B shipper taking a worst-case angsty scenario and searching for a happy ending. And a killer. STORY: On-Hiatus, but not for much longer 5/2011 :
1. The Body in the Park

_**Hi. *Waves* Welcome to my very first fanfic that's been on hiatus for… years. If you've read me since this story, I swear I'm a better writer now. And that I will finish this story. Eventually. Promise. **_

_**This is a post-100-into-season-five fic (started before the season five finale). If you're reading this mid-2010 and beyond, this is AU and follows almost nothing that really happened.  
**_

* * *

**The Body in the Park**

* * *

Detective Emily Bryant had to look away. Twelve years with the Arlington Police Department couldn't prepare her for the scene before her. But she needed to focus. She had to turn around and look.

As she took a step forward, trying to push through the wave of nausea sweeping over her due to the intense smell, she grimaced at the sight. At first glance, the victim had been rotting away for several days. Her long hair was still matted to parts of the skull still intact. Pieces of her body were scattered in varying distances from her. And the smell of her corpse was so harsh that she couldn't imagine the woman had been dead here for very long without someone noticing the smell sooner than today. The smell, as it goes with dead bodies was. . . fresh.

"Detective Bryant!" she heard and turned, thankful for the distraction.

"What do you know, officer?" The detective took several steps back and away from the gruesome crime scene.

"We found a wallet along a jogging trail, about 100 yards north of the dump site…"

"The victim." Det. Bryant interrupted to correct him.

Sheepishly, the officer corrected himself. "…North of the victim. If the hair color on the… victim… is any indicator, the wallet probably belongs to her." The young officer looked at the body and his face lost all color.

"Pay attention," Detective Bryant snapped. "Any missing reports out for the ID in the wallet?"

"Yes, name is Catherine Park. She was reported missing by her boyfriend, Joe Crawley, three days ago. He was expecting her home from work one night, and she never showed. He had to wait the minimum 24 hours for the local police to pay attention. "

"Any indicators as to why she's in a park, in Arlington, when she lives in Bethesda?"

"None. The missing person's report says she works in D.C. She takes the Metro into work every day, but her route wouldn't share into these lines. . This area seems out of her way," the officer said, shrugging his shoulders.

Detective Bryant shook her head. "Well, we have a Maryland resident, found dead on Federal Park land in Virginia. Doesn't look like this will be our case much longer."

The officer answered optimistically. "The FBI has better experts to determine what was done to that poor girl. She's probably better off."

"I think at the end of the day, she'd feel better off if she wasn't raccoon food, cut up into a thousand pieces." Detective Bryant sighed, putting the wallet into an evidence bag, and walking away. Quickly, she turned around to another officer at the scene and shouted "Somebody, grab that raccoon! He's been eating the victim and could have evidence."

-*B*B*-


	2. Back in the Game

**Back in the Game**

* * *

"Doctor Brennan?"

She moaned, while realizing her neck was stiff, but unaware of what woke her from her slumber, she jumped when she heard her name a second time.

"Doctor Brennan? Did you sleep here all night?"

Brennan turned around and realized Cam had been the one calling for her. _Of course it was Cam,_ she thought. There was no one else from her team at the Jeffersonian.

"Good morning Doctor Saroyan. I didn't realize I had fallen asleep here," she said, yawning as she sat up. "I was doing paperwork on the Mongolian Burial Crypt and must have dozed off," Brennan said, rubbing the back of her neck and tried stretching her arms to loosen her shoulders. "What time is it?"

"It's a little before 7 am. Did you learn anything interesting about the crypt?"

"Seeing as how crypts of this type are of Christian origins, I believe we should call it something else besides the Mongolian Burial Crypt. The man buried inside was of European descent, meaning that he likely died while traveling in what is now known as Inner Mongolia and those who were with him decided to construct the crypt and bury him on site. However, the bones only date to the early Qing Dynasty, meaning they are approximately 400 years old. It's still a very interesting find, but not as interesting some were hoping it would be."

"So, then… you're all done with the examination then? Free as a bird and able to jump to a new project?" Cam asked hopefully.

"I still have my report to put together," Brennan said, as she picked up and straightened the papers that had fallen from her lap to the floor when she fell asleep.

"But right now, you would have time to conduct an examination of another set of remains?"

"I'm sure I could get to something this afternoon. What would I be examining?" Brennan asked, distractedly.

"Actually…" Cam drawled out. "I need your assistance right away. As in now…"

"Now?" Brennan asked looking up and then behind her from her seat on the couch. "Cam, no one's even here, what could possibly need my attention…" Brennan stopped short and looked up at Cam as the realization of what she was asking struck her.

"No."

"Doctor Brennan…"

"No, Doctor Saroyan, we agreed. You agreed, you said that I could return to my work here in the lab and accept more requests for finds from outside sources, which I've done. You said that I could spend the next few months increasing the research and verification credibility for the institution, and I need to stay in the lab in order to do. Without other distractions."

"Yes, I did say that. However…" Cam paused, trying to find the right words. She failed. "We're the Jeffersonian Institute," she said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Our credibility is just fine. Our relationship with Congress, who helps to fund us, however, could always use a little pampering."

"I'm being requested into the field for political purposes?" Brennan asked incredulously.

"Not exactly. Yes, she's likely the niece of a Congressman, but she's also a woman whose life was ended too soon… I am asking you to accompany me to see a body of a young woman who's been brutally murdered. The investigators on site sent some pictures over, and it's… it's gruesome, the state this woman was found in. There's flesh and there's definitely bone damage and I think this woman deserves the very best when it comes to bringing her murderer to justice.

"Cam…" Brennan said in a pleadingly quiet tone.

"Brennan… I know you don't want to do this. I know that since Booth left…"

"This isn't about Agent Booth," Brennan clarified quickly.

"Okay…" Cam said cautiously. "For the last few months, you have haven't wanted to go into the field. I've respected that choice… for now. But I also know that the number of cases I've seen you solve over the years, the amount of good you've done has to negate what is keeping you in the lab. This woman deserves our best and you… you're the best, Doctor Brennan. Please, come with me to this crime scene and do what you do best, for this woman," she said, placing the set of photos she had printed off on Brennan's desk.

Brennan simply looked stoically in the opposite direction, refusing to acknowledge her supervisor or the photos. Cam let out a small sigh before she turned to leave. As she reached Brennan's door, she simply said "Mobile Lab leaves in five minutes."

Brennan fell back into her desk chair upon Cam's exit and closed her eyes. She last remembered checking the clock after 4 am, guessing she dozed off sometime after that. Last night was the third night this week she had spent in the lab. It was the second night in a row she didn't go home. And given the sound of her rumbling stomach, she realized it had been awhile since she ate.

Weeks had passed, turning into months. Months of staying in the lab. Months of working longer hours than she had in years. Months without her whole team assembled in the lab. Months without a murder to solve. Months of… just time. Time to herself. Time spent alone.

It wasn't logical to remain like this. She was good at what she did and just because everyone else left, it didn't mean her life could stop. That the lack of certain people meant that the murdered woman did not deserve as much justice as anyone else's murder she had helped to solve.

Maybe… maybe it was time.

And saying no to Cam… the way she had been acting. She felt childish. This wasn't how Temperance Brennan acted or reacted to anything. It was time to get up off the ground.

Cam walked away from Brennan's office, hoping she hadn't pushed too much. For the past months, it had been impossible to get Brennan out of the Jeffersonian's bone storage room, as she threw herself into identifying multiple bodies in "Limbo" unless there was another research-heavy project the institute requested she work with. While Brennan had been making tremendous progress on a number of projects, Cam feared she was losing a little bit of herself every day. She didn't know Brennan as well as some people, but she saw the heartache exuding from every pore of the woman at all times. Over the years, the doc had grown on her and she now found herself to be the only person in Brennan's life on a daily basis who bore both witness and concern for her welfare.

If someone was going to pull Brennan out of her current funk, it was going to have to be Cam. If, for no other reason, because there was no one else there to do it.

Lost in her thoughts, she failed to hear Brennan's approach.

"Cam, I don't know how effective I would be in the field today, seeing as how I've been up most of the night. However, Mr. Bray is here already, and I have full faith in his ability to photograph and collect evidence from the scene, and, if you would permit, I would be happy to inspect the remains once they are brought back to the lab and assist you in any way I can."

Cam looked at her sympathetically, before clapping her hands and nodding in agreement. It wasn't exactly what she… or the deputy director of the FBI wanted. But it was close and she would take it.

"I'll take Wendell then. We'll see you this afternoon." As she exited the office, Brennan felt both relief and sadness. She laid back on her couch, tipping her head back as far as she could, hoping the lacriminal fluid threatening to leak from her eyes would succumb to gravity and retreat.

She was alone again. But instead of feeling sorry for herself anymore, she ran her hands to down her legs to her knees and pulled herself up to stand. A quick trip home to shower and change her clothes and she would be back in the lab. She was back.


	3. The Wrong Kind of Cocky

**The wrong kind of cocky**

* * *

"Doctor Saroyan?"

"Yes, I'm Camille Saroyan. This is my associate, Wendell Bray." Wendell nodded to acknowledge the woman. "You're Detective Bryant, I assume."

"Yes, ma'am. I am the lead officer and have been at the scene since late last night. Our forensic team has been cataloging pieces of the body throughout the park for several hours."

"What can you tell us so far?" Cam inquired.

"We found a wallet not too far from here which belongs to a woman reported missing last week. The woman is a Maryland resident, and so far, we haven't been able to figure out what would bring her to this area. We just have an idea of how long she's been gone. Four days."

"That detective work you speak of is sort of my area of expertise, don't you think?" A tall brooding man appeared next to the two women, with a smug smile across his scruffy face.

"Are you FBI?" Detective Bryant said, without trying to hide the annoyance in her voice. "We called for you guys hours ago."

"Sorry it took us so long to get here, but we figured you'd want the best man on this case, and I was busy 'til just now."

Cam and Bryant rolled their eyes, looking equally annoyed at the new presence in their conversation. "Doctor Saroyan, if you'd like to examine the body, I can catch up Agent 'Swagger' here on the evidence we've retrieved so far." Cam nodded and turned to leave when the Agent stopped her.

"Doctor Saroyan, with the Jeffersonian, right? And where's your brainiac anthropologist lady? I've been told I _need_ to meet her." He didn't ask it in the form of a question and his tone, while curious, didn't indicate that he was looking forward to working with her. But Doctor Brennan's reputation, the good and the bad, had always preceded her.

"Sorry Agent. . .?" Cam paused to allow him to introduce himself.

"Special Agent Jeffrey Harris. Just Jeff, if you'd like," he said with a lopsided smile.

"Agent Harris," Cam started back up again. "You will deal directly with me through this investigation." Cam walked away and Bryant indicated to Agent Harris that he should follow her so she could fill him in.

Cam gritted her teeth at the thought of continuing to work with the FBI without the presence of her old friend. But as low as her tolerance was for breaking in a new agent to work with the Jeffersonian crew, it was nothing compared to the intolerance her world-renowned forensic anthropologist, who had refused to leave the lab for months now would have in dealing with him.

"What have you got, Wendell?" Cam said as she bent down, hoping one of Doctor Brennan's most talented interns would be enough to catch all of the details the Doc would normally catch when she arrived at the crime scene.

Wendell continued snapping photos as he started to describe what he had noticed thus far. "Female, approximately 25-30 years of age. She's never given birth based on what's left of the pelvic area. At first sight, I would have guessed she was murdered and dismembered." Wendell paused. "Please don't tell Doctor Brennan I used the word 'guess' at a crime scene?" he asked sheepishly.

Cam nodded and smiled, indicating he should continue. "Dismemberment is what one would initially think, but the amount of blood present at the scene and the lack of clean break marks on any of the bones I've seen so far would not be consistent with an instrument capable of dismembering a human being. You'd expect to see saw or hack marks. . ." Wendell's words trailed off as he bent closer to the victim. "All I see are bite marks. And bones, torn away from the body viciously."

"From the animals who've been snacking on her?" Cam inquired.

Wendell hesitated before speaking. "Maybe some of them. But at the vicious way she's been mauled and without seeing another prominent cause of death, I would venture to – to inquire as to whether or not whatever left these jagged marks on the bones weren't also what killed her."

"I don't think we can get a conviction if she was eaten by a bear," Cam remarked sarcastically.

"At this point, we just need to get her back to the lab, all of her." Wendell looked around skeptically at the rest of the forensic team gathering evidence and looked back down at the victim. "My initial estimation says we're still missing about 40 percent of her skeleton."

"Well let's find the rest of her and get her back to Doctor Brennan then." Cam sighed as she began to gather samples to analyze later.


	4. The Meaning of Fine

**The Meaning of Fine**

* * *

Brennan arrived back to the lab, with a large coffee and a half eaten bagel in tow. Caffeine, and lots of it, would be required to make it through this day. She silently vowed to leave the lab by 7 pm tonight and sleep in her own bed. It would be the first night she had done so in a week and continuing to sleep on her office couch was becoming physically intolerable. She could manage one night in her apartment, alone. She always had before.

She looked out from her office at the lab platform and saw tech teams were beginning to bring the first of the remains into the lab. While instinctively, she wanted to run out and begin examining the victim, she lacked the motivation to do so. She lacked the motivation to do a lot lately, but settled in her mind that it would be better to examine the victim once Cam and Wendell were back to fill her in on the situation. Until then, paperwork would suit her just fine.

She sat down behind her desk and refreshed her e-mail. Among the many term papers that were being electronically submitted for review by her students was an e-mail that brought a sad smile to her face. She opened it.

"_Hey Sweetie,_

_I've attached some photos from our latest swing through Southern Italy! I have never felt this inspired to paint and draw in my life. The only time I can put the sketch pad down is any and every time Jack walks near me, or just plain breathes. It took us two days to get outside and just walk the beach, if you know what I mean ;)._

_I hope you're doing well and leaving the lab at a reasonable time. There's no reason you shouldn't be out enjoying your nights or having a life on the weekends. Grab Cam and go out for a drink every now and then. _

_I'm so happy you decided to stay in D.C. I can't even tell you just how eager I am, while I love our honeymoon, to get home and see you again. I promised Hodgins this six-month trip, and two months into it, I think we'd both be fine if we settled for four months. :) We leave for France in three days, and I intend to spend one whole month in Paris. After a couple more stops, I think we'll be headed home, to our reality. It's weird to think I'm really married now. I suppose it makes some sense to spend time adjusting to that at home._

_Please, please Bren, get out and live a little. Don't make me kick your butt once I'm back. I hope you're not moping around the lab. Cam said you aren't assisting with field work anymore, and I get it sweetie, I really do. And, personally, I am just fine knowing that you are not in harm's way on a daily basis when I'm not there to see you for myself. I can only imagine what it's like there without the whole 'team' there… I certainly know that if you weren't at the Jeffersonian, my desire to stay there would drop, significantly. But WE'RE ALL COMING BACK, all of us, Bren. Your whole family and we love you very much. I miss you more than you could know. Hang in there sweetie. I'll call you soon._

_Love you!_

_Angela (and Hodgins)_

Brennan wasn't sure why, but she always had a visceral reaction anytime someone felt it necessary to use all capital letters to get their point across. It was a lot like someone on paper yelling at you. And why, she thought, is it necessary to punctuate sentences with facial emoticons. Millions of writers throughout history completed their writing without doing so. Anthropologically, it might signify a way for people to express their emotions with symbols when they cannot find the right words, something akin to the Ancient Egyptians hieroglyphics. Though, clearly, Angela's excitement came through in her writing without such nonsense. Brennan sighed. She hit reply on the e-mail, and kept her thoughts short and succinct.

_Hey Ange,_

_Thank you for the photos. It looks as if you two are having a great time. I miss you as well. From the sounds of your letter, it seems that you have been given reason to worry about my well-being in the present. But I assure you, there's nothing to worry about. Things at the lab are as boring as you would usually think them to be, though I have accomplished a lot of work these past few weeks, and the feeling of accomplishment is gratifying.. As for my mood, which you seemed to reference several times in your e-mail, I am fine. I'm feeling fine, I sleep when I deem it appropriate, and I am excelling at my work, which is, of course, how I maintain my status as one of the best forensic anthropologists in the world. I'm really looking forward to your return home, but don't return home early on my account. I am FINE. Life is fine. It existed before I became a crime-solving anthropologist, and it will go on even if I never work with the FBI or other law enforcement agency again. Things change and I have always adapted quickly. Though, the reason I must keep this response short is because I am about to consult on a case with the FBI in the next few minutes. The body has just arrived to the lab._

_I am glad to hear that you are not yet bored of marital coitus (I have read before that after marriage, a couple's desire for one another can wane.) Give my best to Hodgins and take care of each other. I will try to write again soon._

_Brennan_

She hoped that she was convincing enough, so Angela would stop checking in with Cam on the status of her emotional state. All of Angela's previous e-mails contained this unnecessary reassurance for their return and concern for her mental state. She felt the need to insist that she was fine, over and over again until Angela believed her. Brennan wasn't ill or physically broken. Temperance Brennan was fine. She was fine. Everything was fine.

And suddenly "fine" stopped sounding like a word with any real meaning. Brennan sighed again and hit send.


	5. Stayin' Alive

**Chapter 5: Stayin' Alive**

* * *

"Doctor Brennan? Doctor Brennan, are you down here?"

Wendell knew that Brennan didn't like yelling in any part of the lab, but he'd searched her office, many parts of the lab, and several rows in bone storage before yelling for her.

"Mr. Bray?" Brennan called out.

As he traveled towards her voice, he couldn't imagine how she had found herself all the way back in this far corner of the room. "What can I help you with, Mr. Bray?"

Breathing a sigh of relief that she didn't mention his yelling her name, he found her and offered his hand as she climbed down the ladder. "Doctor Saroyan and I just arrived back from the crime scene, and the FBI techs have brought in the body. She was hoping you would join her in the lab."

Everything Doctor Saroyan had done or said lately had been a polite request of her colleague versus a direct order from her supervisor. Brennan wondered if she should challenge or push Cam's reluctance to make her participate in cases or work in conjunction with any federal agency by refusing to help. But with or without her partner, a crime was still a crime, and a murderer was still loose. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't shake the responsibility she felt for doing what she could to prevent the murder of another victim.

Not to mention, she had resolved to do better. To get past her hang-ups. To not keep waiting for… waiting for… waiting. For whatever could or might come next.

Brennan followed Wendell out of Limbo and back towards the lab. As they emerged from the basement stairwell, Brennan couldn't help but flinch at the number of FBI agents currently in her lab. While most of them were leaving, she paused for a moment, trying to sum up the strength to keep her professional composure around her partner's old forensics team.

Cam spotted Brennan's pause in her approach to the forensics platform. "Doctor Brennan, so far we know that the victim is a young woman in her late twenties to early thirties, and we have a probable ID based on evidence found at the scene. What we don't know is how she got there or what exactly killed her." Doctor Saroyan spoke quickly, in hopes to avoid any protests from the anthropologist who looked hesitant to step up to the platform.

"Who killed her, you mean?" Brennan took a deep breath as she swiped her access card to enter the platform. "What was the context of the find?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Cam stated, knowing that while the death looked brutal, the cause of it was not obvious. "She was found in a normally well-populated park, not that far from a jogging path. The body has been scavenged by animals, leading the tech team to believe her body has been in that location for 48-72 hours. I concur with that estimate. The smell of the victim, while decomposing would also indicate that, in a well-populated area, her body could not have gone unnoticed for long. What we can't determine at a first look is what cause of death could possibly be. As you can see, there's a lot of damage."

Brennan put on her latex gloves and began methodically examining the remains, blocking out the sounds and conversation around her. She had seen many grotesque murder scenes before, but there was something particularly cruel about this woman's death.

She paused at that thought, and scolded herself for a more emotional, less clinical reaction to the victim's remains. She took a deep breath, and started again.

"The way the tissue has been ripped off her body would be indicative of scavenging animals. But the park is a city park, void of large animals that would typically gravitate to a dead body," Brennan thought out loud.

"Was there any indication that a larger animal like a bear or mountain lioon had been in the park recently and could explain the amount of damage done?"

"Nothing that we know of," Cam responded.

"We're missing several of her limbs, and the tech team should collect any wild animals in the park and contain them until we are sure they haven't processed evidence." Brennan picked up the victim's arm, peeling back some of the flesh still hanging to it and examined the bone.

"Whatever weapon was used to strike her, this had to be a very violent attack. I see some bone damage caused by… an unknown object… here, on the scapula. A direct and elongated strike by a weapon. But it seems that the reason smaller animals fed on her was due to the open wounds and torn flesh present near the time of her death. I would surmise that she was eaten so quickly by animals because she was already wounded to such a severe degree that she was very…" Brennan paused. "That the scavenging animals found her very appetizing."

Brennan paused again, and looked at the photographs Wendell was posting to the monitors on the platform. "Doctor Saroyan, have you any thoughts about the amount of blood left at the scene?"

"Based on the amount of blood soaking through ground at her final resting place and the presence of large quantities of blood in her tissue as it was scavenged, I would venture to say that…" Cam hesitated.

Brennan flinched in a way she wished she could have contained. "Blood was still circulating as she laid there… so, she was still alive when she was eaten." She wanted to make it sound like a question, but the realization was harsh.

"She was still alive." Cam concurred. Everyone on the platform looked queasy at their agreement.

Brennan took a deep breath and returned to a disconnected state. "Okay. We're looking for someone who possibly attacked her and left her for dead. And you said you may have a possible identification?"

"A wallet was found not too far from the scene, about 100 yards away." Wendell took this opportunity to explain the scene in the park and put aside the imagery he was envisioning in the victim's last moments, as a live snack for the moment. "The FBI says a missing person's report was filed for the woman whose wallet we found, approximately two days ago. The missing woman's name was. . . "

Suddenly, the labs alarms were blaring at high pitch. Brennan heard a name faintly through the screeching as she turned to find who had violated her platform. Wendell made his way down to the alarm to shut it off with his access card, and the lab fell silent again.

The cause of the alarms began to speak. "Catherine Park. Her name is Catherine Park. That is, if you can tell me the missing woman and the body on this table are the same person."

"Who are you?" Brennan demanded, though she felt awkwardly fearful of his answer. There was something eerily familiar about the dark hair and eyes, broad shoulders and the regulation suit he was wearing that told her she already knew the answer to her question.

"I'm Special Agent Jeff Harris of the FBI, and that's my body," he said, indicating the victim on the exam table. "And you are . . .?"

Brennan wasn't about to indulge in pleasantries. "And because you're a federal agent, you think you have the right to barge into a secure institution and compromise the integrity of the work we do here by gallivanting into our forensics lab?" Brennan scoffed, removed her gloves, and made her way to exit the platform.

"Doctor Brennan," Cam called out, in an effort to keep her from fleeing. "Could you help me update Agent Harris on what we know so far?"

"Doctor Saroyan, Mr. Bray is perfectly capable of translating our results into layman terms thus far. Let me know once the body is devoid of flesh and I'll resume my examination of the bones." She declared her intentions to leave without once stopping as she bolted from the platform.

Agent Harris turned around to face Cam. "So, that's the infamous Doctor Brennan?"

Cam nodded and then shook her head, unsure of her next step. She needed her best people on this case, and given the fact most of them had already fled the country, she needed to keep Doctor Brennan engaged in working cases before she lost herself in other work. Before she loses herself, period.

Somewhere, in the back of Cam's mind, she believed if she could get Brennan to work on this case, she would start to heal from her current state of heartbreak and abandonment, giving Brennan's life a purpose and focus which it currently lacked. And then she silently cursed to herself about the irony of the situation, as she indicated that Agent Harris should follow her.

Cam was the person least-suited to help Doctor Brennan in this situation, but she was also the only person left to try and put Doctor Brennan back together. She looked at Brennan as she walked into her office and closed the door. There was only one person, she thought, who could actually put Brennan back together. Maybe Cam would have to settle on simply keeping her tethered to reality until someone else could step in. And then she silently cursed the man causing them both all of this grief.


	6. When the Phone Tolls

**When the Phone Tolls**

* * *

A few hours had passed since the FBI tech team had left the remains and the Jeffersonian. Brennan returned to identifying a victim of a 1940s-era mine cave-in. The discovery had been made about 10 years previous, and this body was among dozens of men who, sketchy documents dating from the time of the death would conclude, likely died inside the mine while exploring areas so remote that it took 60 years to uncover them.

Based on the photographs of the body when it was discovered, it was likely that the man had fallen down a shaft he had not seen, which explained the damage she saw. No one came to look for him. No one came to look for him and the walls closed in and cut off his oxygen. He was likely buried alive by mine construction that took place within days after his fall. Between the concussion, inhaling the thick air in the mine while injured and his eventual dehydration, even if someone had come close to his location, he wouldn't have had the ability to call out to them. The fall didn't kill him. His death was slow and painful. And he was very alone.

Brennan felt sadness wash over her as she carefully placed the man's skull on her examination table, and continued to take notes, hoping to find enough identifying features that she could compare them to the records of missing miners and identify the man. He was practically a child when he died, his epiphyseal plate still intact, indicating he was probably 18-21 years of age.

"Doctor Brennan?"

"Yes, Mr. Bray?" she asked, without taking her eyes of the skull. She didn't have Angela's imagination, but for some reason she believed this miner had kind eyes. And she wanted to focus on learning his identity.

"I just wanted to let you know that Doctor Saroyan has finished her examination, and that I have contained the skeleton in the ookey room to allow beetles to remove the rest of the flesh. My estimation is that the skeleton should be ready for your examination by 7 pm tonight."

Brennan looked at the clock. _"How was it only 4 pm?" _she wondered. "That's fine, Wendell. I should be done with this examination and the paperwork by that time." Her thought was interrupted by her cell phone ringing.

"Brennan," she said, as Wendell waited and watched as a confused look washed over his boss' face.

"It's nice to hear from you… No, of course… It's not a problem, I would be happy to help you out and thrilled to see him… I can only imagine how tough it is to be doing this by yourself right now… I miss him too, and would certainly enjoy spending time with him… of course… and which park is he playing at today?"

Brennan grabbed paper off her desk and quickly scribbled some information down. "Not a problem, I'll see you soon, Rebecca." Brennan finished her conversation, grabbed the piece of paper, her phone, and her purse.

"Is everything okay Doctor Brennan?" Wendell inquired.

"Yes, Mr. Bray, everything is good. But I don't know when I will be able to examine the body. Something has come up and I need to leave." She started to walk towards the door and turned back towards Wendell, to save herself a call from Cam later. "Please tell Doctor Saroyan that I will examine the victim later tonight if she'd like, but I am not likely to be back until 8 pm or later." She paused and took a breath as a slight smile crossed her face. "I have a baseball game to attend."

Brennan turned out of her office and quickly made her way to her car.


	7. Take me out to the ball game

**Take me out to the ball game**

* * *

Brennan made her way through late-afternoon Washington traffic like it didn't exist. Suddenly, she felt a little joy as she made her way to a park she'd been to more times than she could count, which was strange considering she had no children of her own to take to the park. But a very special boy often played his little league games at the park's baseball diamond, and she found herself looking forward to seeing the boy play yet again. She had come to grips with the idea that she would not be seeing that charming young boy for quite some time, and her heart was suddenly aflutter knowing she was on her way to spend the afternoon with him.

As she pulled into the park, she immediately saw the boy's mother, standing close to the edge of the diamond, talking on her phone. She spotted Brennan getting out of her car, and abruptly ended the call to head towards her.

"Doctor Brennan, it's good to see you."

"Hi Rebecca, and please, it's Temperance."

"Temperance," Rebecca corrected. "Again, I'm so sorry to have called to bother you, as I'm sure you're busy, but if I don't get back to work and fix a sudden catastrophe that happened in my absence, I'm afraid I won't have a job tomorrow. And I couldn't reach anyone else."

"It's my pleasure to watch Parker while you go back to work. I can't imagine that suddenly becoming a single parent has been an easy adjustment." Rebecca flinched at her statement.

"I never knew just how much I depended on Seeley on a regular basis until suddenly he wasn't here every day to help me with Parker if I needed it. But what I'm going through isn't nearly as bad as how Parker is feeling, reacting to his Dad being gone. That's part of the reason I thought of you. You're Seeley's best friend and Parker loves you…" Rebecca's voice trailed off as she saw Parker step up to bat.

Parker looked to find his Mom and saw her standing with Doctor Bones. He smiled that huge Boothy-grin that Brennan knew could be as fiercely charming as his father's. Both women waved at him, and let out a simultaneous "GO PARKER!" as he stepped up to the plate.

"Anyway, I should be done with work no later than seven, and I can pick him up from you at the lab or meet you somewhere else."

"Sure," Brennan replied. "Just call me when you're ready, and we can figure out what would be most convenient."

"Thank you, thank you again," Rebecca smiled gratefully, and handed over Parker's backpack. "He has a change of clothes in there, as well as his math homework." Rebecca started to walk away, but stopped to add, "and his cell phone is in this pocket as well."

"Parker has a cell phone?" Brennan asked.

"Yes, he just uses it for emergencies and calls with his Dad while he's away. Seeley normally calls on Tuesdays, around 5:30 to talk with him. The phone is fully-charged, so he should be fine."

Brennan had a blank stare on her face as she realized today was Tuesday and Parker would be with her when Booth called him tonight. They hadn't spoken since Booth left. She had tried to reach him before he left… but if he didn't know, it would come as a shock to him that she was not just in the city, much less with his son for the afternoon.

Brennan exchanged final goodbyes with Rebecca and headed towards the bleachers with Parker's bag. Parker had gotten "walked," terminology that Booth had to explain to her at one point. When the pitcher couldn't get the ball across the plate within a certain geometric range, the umpire would call "BALL!" After four "BALL" calls, the batter was immediately "walked" to first base.

She could tell Parker was disappointed that he did not have an opportunity to hit the ball, but he stood on first, ready to run as fast as his small stature would allow to second base. He saw her watching him and waved excitedly. Her wave was interrupted by the crack of the bat, as the baseball made its way into left field. Parker took off running toward second base, while trying to maintain eye contact with the ball behind him. When the ball hit the ground, Parker ran even faster.

Once safely on third base, he turned around and looked at Bones again, smiling that smile, looking for her approval. She clapped, cheered and made other noises she would normally find obnoxious. But when she looked at that little boy, reveling at his pride in his athletic talent, she thought his smile could melt a heart. Metaphorically speaking, of course. She knew very well that Parker Booth could get away with just about anything by staring at you with his starry eyes and flashing a crooked grin. She knew exactly where he learned those traits, too. Genetics helped, but that little boy had all the charming personality of his father.

Brennan was experiencing the same muscle tightening and rapid breathing she had become accustomed to when she thought about Booth. But she would not allow herself to cry. Not here, not now. This afternoon, she was focused on that sweet little boy who, at the sound of the second crack of the bat, made it barely half way from third base before slamming on to his side and finishing the last half of the trip to home plate in a forceful slide. And he scored.

Brennan jumped to her feet, shouting and cheering for Parker at the top of her lungs. She realized just how much she had missed seeing Parker on a regular basis. Maybe she couldn't see his father right now, but Parker brought her a certain amount of joy that covered the gap Booth left in her life. Even if it was a temporary patch over that empty feeling.


	8. The Importance of a Hamlet

**The Importance of a Hamlet**

* * *

"It's hard to get a fast running start to slide all the way to home plate. I've practiced it a lot before, but I didn't know I could really do it until I did it today. It was so much fun and I thought my heart was going to bust out of my body!" Parker exclaimed.

"You know, Parker, it's not actually possible for your heart to jump out of your body," Brennan corrected him.

"So, that means I can slide like that all the time, and I'll be just fine, right?" Parker asked.

"I suppose so," Brennan said, unable to control her laughter at his excitement.

They continued talking about his baseball game on the way back to the Jeffersonian, because Brennan wanted to pick up her computer, having forgotten to take it with her when Rebecca called. As they walked into her office, the clock caught her attention and she paused.

"Parker, what time are you and your Dad supposed to talk on the phone?"

"He calls at 5:30, every Tuesday."

Brennan glanced at the clock, which said 5:22, and wondered if she could get a message to Booth in time and treat the charming boy to a little face time with his Dad. "Can I see your phone for a moment?"

Parker happily obliged. He carried a cell phone with his Mom, Dad, Grandparents and now Doctor Bones' number in it. She sent a text to Booth's number as labeled in Parker's phone and told him to call an alternate number at 5:30 pm. She knew that, in the military, calls were always made from computers on base and all of those computers were equipped with webcams.

"Hey Parker, I'm going to have your Dad call the Jeffersonian. If you sit behind my desk when he calls, you'll be able to see him on my computer screen. And he'll be able to see you."

"Cool, thanks Bones!" Parker bound for the desk and jumped up in the chair.

It had been awhile since she had heard anyone call her Bones. "One thing Parker. If your Dad asks, just…you probably shouldn't mention that I'm in the room during the call."

"Isn't that lying?" Parker asked.

"Parker, I don't want to interrupt any of your phone time with him, and I know you only get a little of it each week. It's okay if he thinks I'm not here. It's like a secret, not a lie," Brennan said, barely able to hide guilt washing over her face, hoping the sweet blonde and blue-eyed boy took her at her word.

It wasn't entirely false, she thought. If Booth knew she was here, he might want to talk to her, and that would be unfair to Parker, taking time with his Dad. However, it's not like Booth has tried to contact her since returning to the Army Rangers on assignment. Maybe she was putting too much thought into how much Booth cared about where she was or what she was doing.

She sat in Booth's chair, or the chair he would normally sit in when in her office, and remained nearby but out of sight. She explained to him how the camera in her computer worked. A minute later, 5:30 on the dot, her computer webcam rang. "Go ahead, hit the enter button," she whispered, assuring Parker.

Booth's face appeared on the screen. "Hey Dad!"

"Hey Bub! How are you?"

I'm doing great. I scored two runs, one, two" Parker illustrated with his fingers. "…two runs today at my baseball game!"

"That's great Parks!" Booth paused as he noticed the familiar background behind his son. "Bub, where are you calling me from? Where'd you get the webcam?"

"I'm at the Jeffersonian, in Bones' office. She said it would be cool if I called you from her computer so we could see each other." Brennan noted what seemed like a really long pause. She suddenly wished she could see Booth's facial expression and attempt to interpret it.

"Yeah, that's really cool. Bones…" he hesitated, trying to grasp what his son just said. "Is Bones there with you in her office?"

Parker looked up at Bones, still hidden behind the computer screen, and after a couple of seconds said, "No, she's outside somewhere, looking at dead bones and stuff. But she's cool that I'm here by myself." He grinned profusely with his Dad's charming smile, and he couldn't help but look back up at Bones' for her approval of his tall tale. Bones smiled back, knowing for sure his father had picked up on the fib and knew her approximate location to his son.

"Bones came to my game today, Dad. Mom had something come up, so Bones came to the game and then she cheered the loudest, louder than all the other kids with their parents, and then…" He smiled so wide Brennan thought his face was going to burst, if that were physically possible. "…she said we'd go to the diner for pie and milkshakes."

"That sounds like fun. You'll eat some real dinner too, right?" Booth smiled, but looked sternly at his son as if he were right there, helping Parker decide that he was, in fact, going to eat those vegetables to earn that pie. Parker nodded, hoping he could secretly talk Bones out of all vegetables besides fries. But Bones definitely liked her vegetables.

"So, how's school going?" Booth continued. He knew his time on the phone with his son was very limited, so he fought through all of his confusion and his questions to give his son the attention he deserved.

After a few minutes, Parker asked, "Dad? How much longer until you come home?"

"It's a little while longer Bub. I'll be home to visit you in six weeks." Booth choked on the words, considering just how long six weeks would take to pass and fighting back the regret he was feeling from leaving Parker for a year.

Brennan's breath caught in her throat. Sensibly she realized that, as a senior training officer, he probably negotiated portions of time off of base for such visits. But that he would be back in D.C. sooner than a year from now made her stomach flip.

"That seems like a really long time, Dad."

"I know Bub. You have no idea how much I miss you. But when I get back, we're going to have an awesome time. And eat so much ice cream, you'll be sick until I come home again."

"Oh man, that sounds awesome!" Parker's eyes glazed over at the thought of so much ice cream, and Brennan unsuccessfully attempted to stifle a laugh.

Hearing her laugh brought Booth back the reality of where Parker was and who he was with. That slight sliver of laughter was enough to make his heart stop.

"Hey Parks, I've gotta go. I miss you so much. Tell your Mom I miss her too. And Bub?"

"Yea Dad?" Parker asked.

"Tell Bones I said thanks for letting you use her computer. It's been good to see you this close."

The boys made gestures with their hands, as if they were bumping fists through the cameras.

"Do you want me to tell Bones you miss her too?" There was a pause that Brennan thought lasted for minutes as they waited for his answer.

"Yeah, tell Bones that I miss her a lot too, okay Bub?"

"Okay Dad. I love you."

"I love you Parks. I'll talk to you again on Saturday, okay?"

"Okay Dad. Bye. I love you! Talk to ya soon!"

And in the corner of his computer screen, Booth could see a familiar hand reach down on the keyboard and shut the camera off to end the call.

_"What the hell?"_ Booth thought. _"Why on earth is she in D.C.? She left on a plane for Malaysia or Indonesia or some other -isha?"_

Booth checked his watch, knowing he was nearly out of time to investigate much further. He opened his phone and thought quickly as he sent a text to a friend.

Cam's phone buzzed and she realized one of her oldest friends had just learned a well-kept secret.

"_Since when is Bones in D.C. instead of Indonesia?"_

Cam looked over and saw Brennan holding Parker's backpack in one hand, and the little boy's hand in her other as they headed out the door. She switched her phone to her camera function and snapped a shot of them leaving. She placed the photo in the text message reply back to Booth, wrote three words, hit "Send" and closed her phone, unwilling to say anything more to the man who had broken the heart of her forensic anthropologist.

Booth impatiently waited in the base's communications office, knowing he had troops to get back to for a nighttime assignment and in 30 seconds, he was going to be late. His men weren't allowed to be late and he sure as hell couldn't set a poor example. But instead of moving, he clung to his cell phone, waiting, praying for an answer.

Finally his cell phone beeped with a response from Cam.

The message broke his heart. Below a picture of Bones and Parker, holding hands and laughing as they walked out the doors at the Jeffersonian, Cam wrote three words.

"_Because of you."_


	9. Pep in her Step

**Pep in her Step**

* * *

Since she hadn't returned to the lab after dropping Parker off at his mom's house, Brennan thought it best to get into work early Wednesday morning and discover what progress had been made on the victim found in Arlington.

For the first time in awhile, she had a little pep in her step. She heard Booth say that once and though she didn't quite understand it, Brennan thought it felt fitting at this moment. She discovered that an evening with a charming eight-year old was good for her mood. Parker was entertaining at dinner and made her laugh more in one evening that she had cumulatively in weeks. When she took Parker home, Rebecca told Brennan about her busy schedule and surprising herself, she ended up offering to pick him up from school Thursday afternoon. Rebecca had a meeting that she expected to go late into the evening and Brennan thought if one day with Parker was enjoyable, it was likely a second day would be as well.

Despite her apprehension around children normally, Parker was a child Brennan enjoyed spending time with. A child, she thought, who was short one parent in his everyday life. In that way, she could very much relate to him. And, if, for whatever reason, the situation were reversed, she imagined her partner would try and be helpful in a similar manner. Not that Brennan was likely to have children. While so much of his life had abruptly changed recently, she thought it only made sense to continue participating in Parker's life someway like she always had when his Dad was around, adding a little stability to his world.

She walked into the examination room, her thoughts on what she should do with Parker on Thursday while she began her inspection of bone damage to the murder victim. She noticed a remodeled break of the victim's right distal radius that happened when she was approximately 13, which matched medical records of the missing woman, Catherine Park, age 29. She looked around the room for Catherine's medical file and found her dental records. She saw that the films matched the dental work on the victim and made the appropriate documentation in her notes.

The victim also sustained a lot of damage to her patellae as a child. Brennan studied her a little bit longer and determined she had played soccer when she was young.

As she moved along in her examination, she noted all old injuries to the victim's skeleton so she could focus on only the most recent damage. And there was a lot of it. Some injuries so deep that the bones were bruised or recently broken due to an attack. There were multiple points where her bones had been gnawed on, most likely by woodland creatures.

Across her ribs, her pelvic bone, and multiple points along her spinal cord, she looked to have been hit by a long, thin, sharp object. The pattern was strange for a knife attack, but the wounds were too small for a blunt object like a baseball bat to have caused the damage. Brennan thought out loud, using her hands to demonstrate the kind of strikes she imagined cause the damage. They were nearly akin to machete strikes, if the wrong part of the blade was used. The patterns matched and the lengths of the wounds corroborated that theory. But the periosteal bruising at the site of the strikes indicated that the sharp strike had some sort of force behind it that could not be explained by a simple machete.

Brennan had a hard time imagining the possible weapon, finally deciding that the weapon used would not necessarily look like a weapon. Booth would assign motive to such a thought, considering her attack to be a "crime of convenience." But the most disturbing part was the cruelty of her death. The periosteal bruising indicated her body continued to circulate blood for at least two hours after receiving these strikes. She would have been cut open, bleeding out and in too much pain to move in an attempt to save herself or call for help. The attacker that left this woman for dead was cruel, she concluded.

She looked around the empty room, before realizing she had no one to share these rather profound thoughts with.

Two hours later, Cam walked into the room with two cups of coffee. "Good morning, Doctor Brennan," she greeted, as she handed her one of the mugs.

"Good morning, Doctor Saroyan. And thank you," Brennan said, accepting and sipping from the mug. "I've catalogued all of the injuries on the victim, and confirmed that the dental records of the missing woman are a match to the victim."

"Any idea on the weapon used to strike her?" Cam inquired.

"I have an idea of its shape and sharpness, determined by the injuries I have noted. It doesn't match any typical weapon I can recognize at this time. I've certainly never seen strikes quite like it before. Angela should work up some three-dimensional scenarios to discover what. . ." her voice trailed off as she realized that wasn't possible.

Cam stepped in to keep the conversation on track. "Certainly, if you can give a good description of what it might look like to the FBI team, they can work on finding potential weapons." The realization that their crime fighting team wasn't here was hard for both women to adapt to and inconvenient to solving this murder.

"Yes, of course. I will type up my notes and get them to you shortly, and you can get them to the FBI. And here…" Brennan grabbed a blank piece of paper and did her best to draw the shape she imagined the object took.

"The base was thick enough to cause periosteal bruising as the small, but sharp blade made deep cuts into the bone, leaving behind the damage I see. Hopefully, this will help the FBI in their search," Brennan stated, handing the sketch to Cam.

"You said, in your notes that the cause of death was that she bled out due to her injuries?" Brennan asked.

"Yes, she was alive for some time after the attack. Evidence at the scene leads me to believe she was lying there at least two to three hours with a pulse."

"Based on the amount of bone bruising I see, I would concur with your assessment. Even though there was no way she could have survived her injuries, the murderer left her in that park alive." Brennan said, as she removed her latex gloves, and began to gather her notes.

"Great work Doctor Brennan. I'll get this sketch and your notes to the FBI when you're ready." Cam smiled, accepting that there was likely no need for Brennan's further participation in the case. If it hadn't been for her insistence to go out in the field with Booth years ago, her lab work and examination would always have been be the extent of Brennan's participation in crime-solving. Maybe it was just time to accept that.

"Thanks Cam." Brennan let a small, satisfied smile fall on her lips, as she took Cam's complement as it was intended. Cam smiled back in surprise and Brennan noticed. "What?" she inquired.

"You just seem happier today Doctor Brennan. It's nice to see." Cam left the room on that note, not wanting to pry further and risk upsetting the moment. Despite her curiosity as to why Doctor Brennan left the Jeffersonian with Parker in tow the day before, she didn't want to be overly inquisitive. She just assumed she knew why Brennan seemed to be in better spirits today.


	10. Questions, Hold the Answers

**Questions, Hold the Answers**

* * *

Two days. It had been two days since Booth learned Brennan was still in Washington D.C. Booth had been going insane these last 48 hours, stewing over why she was there.

_Why she was with Parker?_

_What did Cam's text message mean? _

_Why didn't he know Bones was home? _

_Why hadn't he called or e-mailed her already? _

_Did she go to Indonesia and come back for some reason? _

_Did she not go at all?_

_Had something happened? _

_Was Bones okay? _

_Was she sick? _

_Why he was here, thousands of miles away from the two people he loved the most?_

Aside from his sense of duty, Booth left Washington D.C. for a very specific reason. Brennan wasn't going to be there anymore. She was leaving him. _For a year._ Or that's what he had convinced himself of, at least.

They had set boundaries and redefined where their relationship would not go. They hit a wall. A painful, soul-sucking wall that his head was repeatedly bashed into every time he saw her. Every time he saw her, he felt his heart hallowing out. He couldn't have her and he couldn't leave her. And when she suddenly decided to leave him for a year, he thought he couldn't be in that city without her.

The Rangers had been trying to recruit him back into active duty for years. They needed someone who could fix a massive gap in their training program. Ranger graduate rates had dropped by 50 percent in just the last two years, meaning that the standards for bringing in new recruits were seriously lagging. In his previous stint, Booth had trained one of the finest Ranger Corps classes in the past 20 years. After years of begging, years of prodding at his sense of patriotic duty, Booth figured the timing was some sort of divine sign.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

The moment he signed the papers to deploy, his heart sunk. How was running away from Brennan, and worst of all, leaving behind Parker, supposed to make him feel any better? But now? He was locked in to a contract for one year. And she… she was home again. Of course she was. It's not like she couldn't choose to come back at any given moment. Bones was a free spirit and she'd only stay in one place as long as she wanted to. She could have decided a month was enough and come right back.

And Parker. He left his son behind. Sometimes, he saw Parker so infrequently while living in D.C., that spending large gaps of time away from him seemed natural. He hated thinking that. But now he was going to spend an entire year away from him? An entire year?

Every fiber in his body told him to walk into his commander's office and request, no, _insist_ on an early dismissal. Dishonorable discharge be damned, he wanted to be at home with his son. This would be the first summer he wouldn't coaching his Parker's t-ball team. It was the first time he'd ever been away from Parker for more than two consecutive weeks.

Every time he started that walk from his tent to his commander's office to demand his dismissal, he would pass by the men he was getting to know, men who were undertrained for impossible missions. Men who also had sons and daughters and mothers and fathers back home. And that damned patriotic sense of duty would creep back up and he'd make it through another day before he would start dealing with his internal struggle all over again.

But these last two days. These last two days were the worst. It was bad enough knowing Parker was without his Dad, and he was without his son. But when Booth returned home for good in a few months, Parker would still be his son. Nothing would ever change that.

His partner, however, was a different story. Now that he knew she was home living her life, when he thought she had run away from him, a new kind of fear swept over every muscle in his body. Parker would always be his. But would Bones? And what if. . .

What if she stayed for him? What if she stayed in D.C. and he left her behind? He reminded himself that he took a stand. He took a stand and put his heart on the line, and she rejected him. But for months, he had been replaying her rejection in his mind, wondering if he could have said something more, done something different. What if he had waited a little while longer, been more patient and given her more time, as he was often advised.

Why was she in D.C.? _Why?_

Booth was going to go crazy if he kept stewing about it without getting answers. Booth needed answers. He needed answers just to start breathing without commanding his body to suck in oxygen. The room was spinning. And if he thought he had it bad, he should overhear how his troops felt about the last 48 hours. Booth's suffering had manifested itself into the most brutal training these recruits had experienced thus far.

Booth needed answers. He scanned his e-mail, and searched quickly for a phone number online. He jotted down the number and left his tent, making his way to the communications office to make a phone call he already dreaded. But Booth needed answers. He needed them now.


	11. Back in the Driver's Seat

**Back In The Driver's Seat**

* * *

"I don't know what this is or how it helps us solve this case. This isn't a clue, it's a puzzle, and it isn't getting us any closer to catching a murderer!" The man shouted angrily.

A woman yelled back, "There's a technique called 'investigating'. You might want to try and look into the woman's life in order to identify these people called 'suspects,' rather than rely on forensics to magically turn up the killer's identity. We've given you enough information to start doing your job!"

The yelling had reached fever pitch, as Brennan could hear it from the moment she entered the Jeffersonian Thursday morning through the sliding glass doors that framed her lab. She recognized the woman shouting as Cam. The man's voice she didn't recognize. She hesitated for a moment as the shouting continued and considered stopping into Cam's office to see what the commotion was about. But it was against her nature to interfere in someone else's business. As Brennan listened to the shouting that was catching the ear of every person in the lab, she suddenly realized the shouting match was headed in her direction.

"You, Doctor Brennan, what the hell is this?" Agent Harris demanded, waving a piece of paper in his hand as he marched towards her.

"How am I supposed to know what's on that piece of paper you're waving around like a lunatic?"

"This!" He had finally finished his approach to Brennan and showed her the drawing she sketched of a potential weapon in the Park murder. "What the hell is this?"

"It's an approximation of the shape of the item that your murder victim was struck with repeatedly," Brennan stated flatly.

"It's not a weapon!"

"Anything could be a weapon, Agent Harris. It doesn't have to look like a weapon to kill someone."

"I know that," Harris said in an incredulous voice. "But this sketch means nothing to me!"

Brennan turned and walked away toward her office.

"Where are you going?" Harris called after her, as he followed a step behind.

"I don't respond to people shouting in the lab. This is a place of work, of professionalism and we observe a decorum that you seem to be lacking. I've decided not to acknowledge your presence until you can acknowledge our standards," Brennan said walking briskly, without turning around.

He took two steps into her office, and Cam appeared in her doorway, catching up with them.

"I thought the reason we came to you people was because you could tell us who did this. You're supposed to be like psychic geniuses or something. This," he shouted while flailing the piece of paper, "doesn't get me a murderer!"

While she was tempted to point out that there were no such things as psychics, she decided to simply ignore the uncouth agent. Noticing Cam at her door, she looked right past him and said, "Good morning Doctor Saroyan. How are you today?"

"My day's getting better already, Doctor Brennan, and you?" Cam smiled and walked towards her, handing her a file for an unrelated case.

"I'm fine, thank you," she said, smiling at the frustration she could see in the FBI Agent's posture as they continued to ignore him.

"Is this what you called 'professionalism,' ignoring a federal agent like you two are schoolgirls on the playground?" Brennan gathered some paperwork, staying silent and the doctors started to walk out of her office, leaving the agent in disbelief.

They were almost to the forensics platform's stairs when they heard, "Doctor Saroyan, Doctor Brennan?" Harris called out to them in a calmer voice, with a twinge of desperation attached. "Let me start over. I came here this morning in need of help. I don't have any suspects from this woman's life that raise eyebrows, and this weapon gives me nothing to go on. I don't have any leads, and this murder is getting a ton of press. With no answers, my bosses are pretty upset. I need your help. Please."

Brennan and Cam looked at each other and turned around to acknowledge the man. Brennan spoke first. "While I appreciate the more professional tone you approached us with, I am not sure what other information I can give you to help in this case." The honesty in Brennan's expression caused the FBI agent to sigh.

"But, I… can you at least give the scene a once-over? You're a scientist and you understand geometry and biology and weapons. You've been to crime scenes before, and maybe you'll see something we've missed that'll be a clue or a potential weapon," Agent Harris said, pleading now.

"I don't know how understanding geometry will help you solve this crime," Brennan said, with an almost mocking tone in her voice. "But I've already seen the photos of the crime scene, and nothing stood out as a murder weapon."

"I was told you were the kind of squint who went into the field and solved crimes. And I was told you were good at it… Please? It has been nearly a week since this woman was murdered and we don't have a clue who did it, which means we can't stop him from doing it again."

Brennan flinched at his statement, because he hit on the one point that always kept Brennan working even the most impossible cases. The next victim. Cam reacted quickly, pulling her aside, out of earshot Harris. "Doctor Brennan, he makes a fair point. The reason you've been able to solve so many murders in the last few years is because of your participation in the field and your observations of crime scenes and suspects. You can often see what others cannot. I know you're reluctant, but it's just a short trip to see if you can help the loud man who has been interrupting the peace in our lab. Just once." Cam paused, allowing Brennan to think for a moment. She shuffled her feet and sighed.

"Agent Harris, I'll go to the scene just this once to see if I can make any additional observations. I'll drive myself and meet you there."

"Thank you. Thank you Doctor Brennan." He clapped his hands together, and headed towards the door. "I'm more than happy to drive, if you'd like?"

"No," Brennan said firmly. "I will drive myself." She walked to her office to get her bag and muttered to herself, "I'm an excellent driver."


	12. Honeymoon Interruptus

**So, you've been wondering where our favorite special agent has been… and why he's not with our favorite forensic anthropologist? Here comes the answer... thanks to ****Exuperance18 for checking my French : )**

**ooOOooOOooOOoo**

**Honeymoon Interruptus**

"Bonjour Docteur Hodgins? C'est Pierre à la réception. J'ai un appel pour vous."

''Oui, qui est-ce?''

"Est-ce Monsieur Booth?"

"Booth! Oui, passez-moi l'appel', s'il vous plait!"

"Hodgins?"

"Booth! How are you? Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine. You know, I'm totally fine. How's… how are you and Angela? How's your honeymoon going?"

Booth realized it was an awkward question, expecting that no man really wants to be interrupted by anyone while on his honeymoon.

Hodgins gave a good three minute summary on their travels so far, where they've been, how long they had been there, and what was coming up next. But the silence at the other end of the line was like a heavy question. Hodgins knew Booth didn't track him down in Paris to get details about anything involving the happy newlyweds. Hodgins knew Booth well enough to know exactly why he was calling.

"So what's new with you, man? How's the military life been treating you?"

"It's busy. Different. It's, uh…" Booth couldn't summon up one kind thing to say about his current situation. "I miss Parker, you know. And I miss the FBI, and everyone at the lab." God, did he just openly admit he missed squints. _"Get a grip, Booth,"_ he thought. This call was going to be bad enough without him sounding like a homesick pansy.

Booth stammered on unintelligible syllables for another few seconds, before he took a large breath and got to his point.

"Hodgins, I need to ask you something. Something maybe you could keep between us, and you know, not share with, you know… Angela?" Booth asked nervously.

"Sure Booth." Hodgins smiled. He couldn't believe it had taken him so long to make the call.

"It's, well, Bones. . ." Booth's voice stopped as Hodgins attempt to stifle a chuckle. "What?"

"No offense Booth, but I knew from the beginning of this conversation, if someone wasn't dead or tragically sick, you were calling to talk about Dr. Brennan. No way were you so interested in our honeymoon that you called us in the midst of it for an update. "

"Hodgins, I'm sorry. You're right, this is inappropriate. . ."

"No, Booth, it's fine. I'm just surprised it took you this long to call."

"You are?"

"Yeah. I figured once you knew Dr. Brennan didn't get on her plane that we'd hear from you. But it turned out you had already gone off on your new military assignment, and no one got a chance to say goodbye…" Hodgins voice trailed off, and Booth couldn't tell if it was sadness or disapproval he heard in his voice.

"I, uh, my flight got moved up earlier, and, you know, I figured I'd be back in a couple of months anyway, why drag out long goodbyes." Even Booth thought it sounded like a feeble excuse. He had let it slip his mind until now that Bones wasn't the only person he didn't say goodbye to before leaving.

"What was that you said about Brennan not getting on her plane?" Booth asked, his voice sounding more of a high-pitched 17-year-old boy than a fully-grown Army Ranger sniper and FBI agent.

"Uh, yeah, I thought you would have heard already. It, uh… she… she didn't get on the plane to Malaysia. She didn't go on that dig." Booth stayed silent on the other end of the lined, and Hodgins expected that meant he wanted more details. "She hadn't had a chance to say goodbye to you before her flight, so first she pushed back her flight by a day, and tried to find you to say goodbye before she left. And you weren't there. I, uh… I didn't pry for all the details, but I know that she waited…" Hodgins stopped, afraid he had already said too much.

"So, she didn't go at all?"

"I know from Ange that she was waiting to say goodbye to you. She waited outside your apartment, she went to your office, and she kept trying your cell phone for like a day… Eventually, we realized you had left and hadn't said goodbye to anyone. Angela said after missing two rescheduled flights, she opted not to reschedule her flight again, and went back to the lab. Next thing I knew, she was pretty focused on helping Ange pack so we could take off on our trip and she threw us a big sending off party. Angela and I left, but Brennan stayed. She never went to Malaysia."

"_Damn_," Hodgins thought. If Angela knew he was talking Booth all of this, the rest of their honeymoon could be very, very unpleasant. He was trying his best be vague about Brennan's reasoning behind cancelling her trip and avoid spilling too much of what he knew.

"I don't…" Booth tried to compose himself over the phone, when in person he had buried his head in his hands, hoping to comprehend what Hodgins was saying. "Her flight took off before mine. I thought she didn't say goodbye to me. Not the other way around. I took off that day because I thought she had already left." His voice was hoarse, and his hands were trembling slightly.

"No." Hodgins replied, with a severity in his voice that was new to this conversation. "I know she's Dr. Brennan, uber-logical, emotions in-check and everything, but no way was she going to leave without saying goodbye to you. There was no way she was going to leave without saying goodbye and out of everyone, you should have known that. No way was she leaving without giving you a chance to talk her out of it. . ." His voice trailed off after giving this revelation. His voice softened as he considered the pain his friend must be in.

"I'm sorry Booth… I figured you would have known by now. I would have told you sooner, except Angela's not speaking to you and if I sent you an e-mail, she'd know. And, I can't go screwing up my marriage just three months into it, you know?"

"Yeah…" Booth remained quiet. "What do I do?"

Hodgins wasn't sure Booth was even asking it as a question to be answered. He stayed silent for another moment, and then channeled his bride. "You want to know what Angela would say?"

Silence remained on the line. So Hodgins continued:

"Ange would say 'Brennan stayed because she loves you. She's so in love with you, she doesn't know how to deal with it. She's so in love with you, she couldn't coherently, logically explain why she didn't get on the plane to Malaysia if she tried. She didn't get on that plane because of you.' That's the good news."

"And the bad news…" Booth whispered.

"You left her. The biggest hurdle to you two crazy kids finally being together and having your happily ever after is her fear that everyone who loves her leaves her. She knows you loved her, and you left her. You confirmed her worst fears."

"I wouldn't have left if I knew she stayed!" Booth exclaimed.

"I think the point is you were planning to leave whether she ended up staying or going. Your plan didn't involve stopping her. Your plan didn't involve her, at all." Silence filled the airwaves. Booth couldn't tell if Hodgins was still channeling Angela, but the slight twinge of anger in Hodgins voice made him think it was a little bit of both.

"Hey, Booth, I know you decided to leave because she was planning to leave. And, quite frankly, Angela knows that too. But in the reality of Temperance Brennan, she believes those who love her, leave her. And you left. So, she's back in D.C., dealing with some serious abandonment issues, and quite frankly, I don't know…"

"Who are you talking to?!"

Both men jumped as a woman's voice interrupted their conversation. A look akin to a kid who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar washed over Hodgins' face. "Jack, is that Booth?" Angela demanded to know. Hodgins nodded.

"Why are you giving him the time of day?" she demanded.

The harshness in Angela's voice struck Booth like a slap across the face. If Bones wasn't speaking to him, he assumed Angela would have plenty to say to him on her behalf. But to really not speak to him at all?

"Ange, just remain calm and remember he is our friend."

Angela's crossed her arms and started to tap her foot, as her frustration grew. "Is he standing some place with Bren, and everything's been fixed and my best friend's broken heart is healed because he finally wised-up, turned around and went home for her?" Angela demanded, in a stern voice out of character for the free-spirited artist.

"Ange, he reenlisted with military, he can't just up and leave." Hodgins knew his attempt to defend Booth would be futile.

"Then _we_ can't possibly have anything to say to him. He hasn't earned the right to know how she's doing, or where she is, or what's going on." She didn't allow Hodgins a chance to respond. "He hasn't earned it Jack. He should man up and find out for himself, first hand." She waved her hand at him, indicating she was done with this conversation and began to walk away.

"Booth, man, I'm sorry but I don't know what else to tell you. Except Brennan's home. She's not going anywhere, anytime soon." Hodgins sighed, hoping his wife would continue walking away and allow him to finish this conversation.

Booth finally managed to get out a sentence, though it was barely above a whisper. "No, thanks Hodgins for the update, and I'm sorry I've interrupted your vacation." His throat was dry except for the tears he swallowed to maintain his composure.

"Hodgins?!" Angela yelled at him from the balcony.

"Yes, sweetheart?" Hodgins said, with a hint of sarcasm as he was afraid of what she'd say next. Angela stepped back inside the room.

Angela's voice shed its harshness, but remained loud on purpose. "Tell Booth that I'm mad at him. That I can't remember being so angry with someone in my life. But also tell him that I love him and hope he stays safe. And for the love of the God he prays to, tell him to get his ass out of the army and go home."

Neither man could help but smile after Angela spoke. "Did you get that?" Hodgins inquired of Booth over the phone.

"Yeah, I did. Thanks Hodgins. Take care of each other and stay in touch. Have a great vacation."

"Stay strong, my friend. Remember, 'In all things it is better to hope than to despair.' Not all hope is lost, I promise. Take care. Bye Booth."

"Bye."

Booth ended the call, wondering what hope Hodgins was referring to. Because all Booth felt was a lot of hopelessness. If Bones stay in D.C. because Booth didn't say goodbye then… then what? Because she was waiting for him to tell her to stay, as Hodgins indicated? Why hadn't he done that? Why didn't he tell her to stay? He had already put his heart out on the line for her. What harm could it have done if she rejected him again? At least he would have known he had tried his best, done everything he could to make it work.

Anthropologically, soldiers were considered to be society's bravest warriors, Booth thought, channeling Bones. But man… the only word that kept ringing in his head was "coward." Why, why, why did he leave…

**ooOOooOOooOOoo**

**"Do you hate me now?" she wonders sheepishly. I surely hope not, because I _love _you for reading. Your thoughts = my reviews. And I'm eager to hear 'em! Just remember what Hodgins says... and I mean it for this story and the real thing, Thursdays, 8 pm on FOX. 'In all things it is better to hope than to despair.' **


	13. Invasion

_**A wordy author's note: I'm so sorry on the delay! Between computer viruses, blackouts, and work, my ability to post this has been scant. Here's comes the next chapter… but before you read it, if you struggled with the last chapter, I realized after talking to some of you, I may need to explain where I'm at in my understanding of the B&B relationship. It's very simple, and I love the debate, so let me have it. **_

_**The one thing about their relationship I've been very sure about for a year, and was 200% more sure I was right about after the 100**__**th**__** episode. Booth just realized a few months ago that he loves Brennan. But Brennan has ALWAYS known. *BOOM***_

_**In chronological order: Brennan came on to Booth first. Suggested they have sex first. Then cared enough that this thing "might be going somewhere" to stop the tequila-filled sex after being fired, even though Brennan likes us to believe sex is just a biological impulse. Then got rehired and slapped Booth out of frustration for him obviously (to Brennan) not wanting their relationship to go to that "somewhere." Wouldn't return his calls for 14 months. Wrote a best-selling novel about a hot forensic anthropologist and FBI guy who investigate crimes and get it on. When she finally can't avoid him, insists they do the same thing in real life, sans the getting it on. Fast forward through every episode you know by heart. Becoming partners, near death moments, serial killers, not sailing off into the sunset, mistletoe kissing, thinking-he-was-dead-and-hitting-him-AGAIN-when-he-wasn't. And every B&B moment that makes you swoon. Booth may have "known" from the start they were meant to be and it may have been obvious to all of us. But Booth only "knew" it subconsciously. Booth drew that dating line long ago. In the 100**__**th**__** flashback, he drew it. In the second season, he drew it. And in Mayhem on the Cross, when GGW and Sweets announce one of them struggles with their feelings every day, it was BRENNAN they were talking about. It's always been BRENNAN! Check his brain scans in Harbingers to verify this. Poor, poor, logical, totally-aware-of-everything-except-how-to-deal-with-her-own-emotions Brennan has always been aware of her feelings for Booth. She's been compartmentalizing those feelings daily for six years. He's just had moments (swoon-worthy, fangirls-make-fanvids-about-them-moments) until season 5. And he unloaded his feelings after just months of struggling with them, shocking her, when she's been the queen of compartmentalizing them for six years, because that's what HE wanted. And she'd do anything to protect their partnership. Honestly, it makes total sense to me that Booth would "run" like he does in this story… Brennan's run so many times to keep her feelings in check. Now that she can't compartmentalize them away anymore, Brennan stayed to deal. Booth ran to deal. Can't blame either of them for reacting the way they did in that finale scene of the 100**__**th**__**, even though that scene KILLS ME! So Brennan-haters, this story isn't for you. Cause I've got nothing but love for Dr. Temperance Brennan, who's been carrying the burden of knowing how much she's loved Booth since Day One. 'Nough said. Though feel free to share your thoughts. **_

_**Sorry for the long A/N. It just needed to be said. Now, the continuation of The Danger in Their History. A story whose title I haven't even gotten around to explaining yet. No worries… it's coming soon. And I hope you'll LOVE it!**_

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**Invasion**

Brennan walked into the Royal Diner and spotted Cam already at a table. She walked towards the table, trying to shake her frustration over her first trip into the field with a new agent. She told Cam she'd meet her for lunch at 1 pm, but Agent Harris' unprofessionalism made her late. Brennan was unlikely to repeat this experiment with a new agent ever again, she thought.

"Hey, Cam. Thanks for the lunch invitation," Brennan said, as she sat down.

"Hey, thank you for giving me an excuse to eat some fries. I need someone to share them with," Cam said with a grin. "Did you learn anything new from the crime scene?"

"Yes, I learned that the FBI has low standards for the agents they hire nowadays. No investigative skills, no common sense, zero emotional stability..." Brennan turned to the waitress who was now standing at the table, and ordered her usual lunch.

"Agent Harris does seem a little high-strung and very unprofessional," Cam agreed.

"I didn't see anything at the scene which could be a viable murder weapon. And he simply expected that the attacker would have left the weapon behind. Statistically speaking, the chances we would find the weapon were small." Cam nodded in agreement. "And then he became all 'A-ha, I've figured it out!' when he spotted a gum wrapper about 10 feet from where the body was found."

"What did he think the gum wrapper signified?"

"Apparently, the woman's boyfriend chews that brand of gum. Therefore, he's the killer," Brennan said in a mocking tone. "Zero investigative ability. The FBI has no standards."

Cam looked carefully at the doc, wanting to step cautiously around a discussion of FBI agents. "Is there any other proof that the boyfriend had something to do with her murder, or is he just assuming guilt?"

"Apparently his alibi is _suddenly_ weak. He still has one though and it was good before Harris found the gum wrapper. It's not like it's a special gum, or they weren't living together and could chew the same gum, or something," Brennan stated.

Their food arrived and Cam opted to change the subject. She discussed Michelle's latest boyfriend and escapades at school. The discussion of Michelle made Brennan want to discuss her upcoming afternoon with Parker.

"The other day, when I left work early, it was because I got a call from Rebecca. Something had come up, and she'd run out of people to help her take care of Parker while she was at work." Brennan glanced at Cam, to watch her process the story. "So I went to Parker's baseball game for her and we came here for dinner. It was fun."

Cam tried to contain the breadth of her smile, already knowing that Brennan was with Parker the other day, and somehow Booth found out about it. "I think that's great. Really. That's great."

"Yes, Rebecca was eager for help. In fact, she's busy with work again today, so I will be picking Parker up from school at 4 pm. I've been meaning to research what kinds of activities 8-year-olds enjoy. When Parker and I have spent time together before, Booth. . ." she paused. "I wasn't the adult in charge of choosing the activity. Children need to be entertained often it seems, and now I'm wondering if Parker will actually enjoy his time with me."

Cam realized that Brennan was posing a kind of question to seek advice. Cam was as clueless about entertaining children as Brennan was. But she needed to give her an answer.

"The nice thing about you and Parker is that you can have fun at the most mundane kinds of activities. He'll be happy just hanging out with you at the diner or going to the park. You could bring him back to the lab and work while he does his homework. You've spent so much time together in the past and you're a connection to his Dad. He's probably just excited to have a chance to hang out with you."

Cam looked at her plate, afraid to register Brennan's reaction to mentioning Booth. But she didn't have to wait very long for the silent moment to end, because Brennan's phone rang.

"Brennan." Cam watched her listen to the call. "Hello, Charlie… I know, I've met him… I'm sorry that the case is struggling, but I don't have any more information… he told me he was going to bring in her boyfriend for questioning … no, I understand how frustrating that must be… Charlie, I don't think so…" Brennan sighed. She was spending time with her partner's son this afternoon and helping her partner's ex-girlfriend out by watching their son. And now her partner's investigative team was calling for her help. Booth may have left her in D.C., but she couldn't go an hour without Booth invading her day.

"Charlie, I'll give you an hour. I'm headed your way now… you're welcome, I'll see you shortly." Brennan felt defeated. She wanted to hold out. She did not want to do what she just agreed to. And as she ended the call, she saw her boss giving her a sympathetic look.

"Was that about the Park case?" Brennan nodded.

"Apparently, Agent Harris is so incompetent as an investigator, other agents are afraid of the many ways he could drill up this case. Agent Burns called to ask for assistance. And though I find working with Agent Harris very unpleasant, he should not be allowed to wrongly accuse people of committing a crime because he is incompetent."

"Screw up. You meant, 'screw up' not 'drill up,' Dr. Brennan," Cam said, trying to hide her grin.

"Yes, of course," Brennan said, putting money down on the table for lunch. "Thanks for lunch Cam. It was…" Brennan stopped to think before speaking. "It was nice to have a meal and engage in discourse outside the lab."

Cam smiled at how scientific their lunch sounded. "We'll do it again."

Brennan smiled, nodded to indicate goodbye and left the diner. Cam sat back and wondered for a moment if surrounding Brennan with her partner's world would help her recover from his absence or hinder it. She decided for the moment that anything that got Brennan out of the basement was a good thing.

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**For the next 14 days, I'm super busy at work and the next five chapters really have to flow well-together--- but they'll be extra long. I will come back and update as much as I can. After those 14 days, I'll be a writing machine. In the meantime, I'm grateful for your reviews... other authors aren't lying when they tell you how much a writer loves em. Cause I do! :) **


	14. Poking and Prodding

_A/N: Slightly spoilerish if you haven't seen The Boy with the Answer yet… but it's subtle, and nothing you wouldn't know from following a Bones blog. Just wanted to be fair and give you a heads up!_

* * *

**Poking and Prodding**

Logically, it didn't make sense to dread exiting an elevator. When one gets in an elevator, the only natural next step is to leave the elevator. But as she reached the appropriate floor in the FBI building, her aversion to exiting the elevator built up into a physical response she could not explain. The doors hadn't opened yet, but all she wanted to do was hit the ground floor button and flee.

Her opportunity to do so was soon squashed as she saw Agent Charlie Burns waiting for her as the elevator doors opened. The illogical feelings produced by a simple elevator ride made her question her sanity, but she certainly couldn't show it by panicking and remaining in the elevator. She brushed her hands down her side and began to proceed out of the elevator and into a very familiar hallway.

"Dr. Brennan, I can't thank you enough for coming," Charlie said, his eyes lighting up as he saw the forensic anthropologist arrive. In his years with the FBI, Charlie had grown accustomed to working under the best investigator in the D.C. bureau. He realized now, from a bureaucratic stand point, he had been spoiled working for Booth. Booth was the kind of agent who cared more about the truth than his solve rate. Though, the addition of Dr. Brennan as his partner years ago helped him ensure he had the best solve rate in the bureau might have. But that fact didn't factor into his boss' work. He was duty-bound to his job and his team, and no matter their personal reasons for starting with the bureau, that team was duty-bound to their boss. He always had their back and vice-versa. Now that there were agents coming out of the woodwork to claim Seeley Booth's job and office in the bureau, Charlie had to have his boss' back. He knew Booth would be back someday. But he couldn't imagine letting his team's solve rate drop due to the inferiority of other agents scrapping their way up the totem pole for a promotion.

Brennan and Charlie made their way past the bullpen, and towards the observation room, connected to the interrogation of Catherine Park's boyfriend. As she entered the room, she heard a familiar voice, expressing frustration at the interrogating agent.

"You're never going to get him to open up if you blatantly attack him. He's obviously in some pain over losing the woman he loved. Try sympathy, empathy, anything else but outright aggression at this point," he said in exasperated fashion.

"Did he actually strike the suspect?" Brennan asked with wide-eyed concern.

Dr. Lance Sweets spun around, realizing he was no longer alone. He was only slightly surprised to see her because part of him couldn't imagine her stepping into this building without Booth. And from her tense and steely stance, he could see that she couldn't believe she was here either.

"Agent Harris, how about taking a break for a minute to compose yourself," Sweets said, pressing down on the microphone. He made that statement in the form of a question, but Harris stood up and left the room knowing it was an order. Charlie left the observation room, leaving Sweets alone with the forensic anthropologist.

"Dr. Brennan, I'm glad you decided to come. I sort of imagined that we wouldn't be seeing you at the Hoover for awhile, given Agent Booth's absence."

For being a pseudo-scientist, Sweets always had a very clear tell when he wanted to investigate something further and Brennan recognized it. Brennan investigated bones for a living. Sweets seemed to take pleasure by investigating her partnership for a living, always poking and prodding where he didn't belong. For some reason, she always let him poke. But not today. She knew as long as she remained clinical in her approach, Sweets would learn less about what she was thinking.

"Agent Burns asked me to come here because clearly, the FBI hasn't found a suitable replacement for Agent Booth yet, and he did not want his team's investigation to be further compromised. And because I have done the physical examination of the victim, it seemed like a logical decision to involve me in this stage temporarily. That's all."

"So you're here for Agent Booth's team." Brennan glared at Sweets, and he continued quickly to keep her from snapping at him. "I'm glad you decided to come. I was saying that, based on your experience not only investigating the physical science, but having participated in dozens of interrogations yourself, you might have a unique perspective to bring to this case."

"I'm only here for this one interrogation, Dr. Sweets," she snapped. "I have no intention of fully participating on this case outside of the scientific expertise I can lend to finding the victim's killer."

"Then, why participate in this one interrogation, just this one, this one time?" Sweets asked, and Brennan glared. _'Poking and prodding…_'she thought.

"Because Agent Burns asked me to assist. He's nervous that Agent Harris has taken an investigative angle on this case that could be detrimental to finding the killer. And because Agent Burns was trained by quality agents, and Agent Harris was trained by, I assume, a primitive tribe from an undeveloped part of the world unaccustomed to effective interrogating techniques or manners, I decided coming down here was the least I could do."

"Dr. Brennan, was that snide remark about Agent Harris… sarcasm?" Sweets asked, as he smiled at her analogy. He decided to leave alone the "quality agents" remark as it referred to Booth, at least of the time being.

"I can be quite humorous," she muttered, with a tone lacking all humor.

"Dry sarcasm, then," he said as she continued to glare in his direction. "Sooooo… you came here today, because Agent Burns asked you to? Would you have come here to assist if I had asked you to?"

'_Enough already_,' she thought. "Dr. Sweets, my time is limited, so is there some way I can assist as the FBI requested, or should I go?" she asked, her voice laced in frustration. Sweets noticed that Brennan stood with her back pressed into the door, hand on the door handle throughout this exchange, clearly indicating her need to escape at a moment's notice.

"Of course, since you're here, we should get started," he stated as professionally as possible. Oftentimes, he enjoyed the insults Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth lobbed at him because of his age and experience, knowing they didn't really mean it because his inclusion in their work indicated that possessed regard for his expertise. At least, he was pretty sure they didn't mean it. But at times like this, he wondered if they really thought he was too young to be taken seriously. He decided it was best to take a serious approach.

"Now that Agent Harris is out of the room, maybe you and I could go in there and interrogate the victim's boyfriend, together?" he asked.

Brennan flinched at the thought of interrogating suspects without Booth. It was bad enough she was in this building at all. But she learned the most about investigative techniques when she was in the room, watching him read people in a way only Booth could and to continue to investigate without him was not something she was willing to do.

However, on a number of occasions, she and Sweets have interrogated suspects on their own. Logically, she couldn't say 'no' now, when they have successfully interrogated people before. Saying 'no' would just make Dr. Sweets want to poke at her further to learn why she would be uncomfortable, and she'd rather not allow him his to take pride in his psychological bravado.

"With your experience in investigating and honed skills as a scientific observer, I was hoping you would be able to help me eliminate him as a suspect," he continued, hoping his sincerity would win her over. He knew honesty was often the best way to break through Dr. Brennan's tough exterior.

She stared at Sweets for a moment, like she would stare at any fresh set of bones put before her and studied him for a moment. Then she checked her watch. "I can only spare a few minutes before I have to leave for another commitment. If the way I can be most useful to the FBI is by participating in an interrogation, I will assist."

Sweets mulled the thought that the longer she had been inside FBI headquarters, the colder she seemed to get. '_Maybe it was too soon to get her in here,' _he wondered. Though his mind was fully engaged in analyzing Dr. Brennan, he moved swiftly to open the door and guide her to the other side of the mirror.

* * *

Brennan took her usual seat in the interrogation room, taking a deep breath to try and calm her nerves. She had done this before. And certainly, the man before them wasn't a killer. Then she scolded herself for making such assumptions. Sweets sat beside her, introduced himself, Dr. Brennan, and began to apologize.

"I'm sorry about Agent Harris' attitude, Mr. Crawley. I know it must be unspeakably hard to discuss Catherine's murder."

The man was practically shaking, on the verge of tears, Brennan noticed. She observed that he was likely the kind of man who did not express emotion well under normal circumstances. But losing the woman he loved and being berated by a loose-cannon of an agent was a combination that she very well thought might break him in this room.

"I don't know what else I can tell you. She was supposed to be home for dinner. She was supposed to be home, and when she didn't come home, I went nuts. I didn't sleep that night, calling everyone she knows, everyone I could think of, trying to find her. I filed the police report the moment enough time had passed." He stopped, trying to fight back tears. Suddenly, he pushed back out of his chair and stood up, making both doctors flinch at his sudden movement. He started to pace as he spoke, keeping her back to them. Brennan supposed it was so they couldn't see him cry.

"But it was too late, wasn't it? All the calling, the police report. She didn't make it that long. She'd been dead for days. And you guys aren't anywhere closer to figuring out who killed her."

He shrugged his shoulders and put his hands up against the wall to balance himself in the midst of his rage. Sweets thought he might pass out at any moment. But Brennan saw something different.

"Mr. Crawley, please raise your arms over your head?" she asked as she stood up and moved toward him.

"What? Am I under arrest? I haven't done anything, I wouldn't do anything to hurt Catherine!" Joe exclaimed in his defense, unsure why the woman was eyeing him in such a strange matter.

"Mr. Crawley, Dr. Brennan is a forensic anthropologist who is trained in kinesiology. If you just do as she asks, I'm sure she'll be able to explain why she's studying you like that." Sweets said, making a face that indicated he was hoping to believe it himself.

"Mr. Crawley, why can't you raise your arms any higher than a 90 degree angle from your hips," she stated, while pulling his arms toward her, without giving him a moment to respond. "You were in an accident that limits your range of motion?"

"Yeah, when I was 14, I was in a bad car wreck. Why?" he asked, clearly confused as to how she knew this information.

Brennan turned to Sweets with that 'ah-ha' smile he imagined she hadn't used in quite some time. "He couldn't have killed her. Whoever did was strong and had to possess full range of motion to swing the weapon in the manner it killed her. There's no way he could have done so," she stated matter-of-factly.

* * *

"What the hell is she doing here?"

Brennan stepped out of the interrogation room with Sweets to hear Agent Harris' surprise at her presence. Though he had posed his question to Charlie, he now turned to Brennan and Sweets to receive his answer. But Charlie spoke first.

"I had called Dr. Brennan to see if there was any additional insight she might have regarding potential suspects. She has worked with FBI investigating team on cases like this one many times before…"

Harris cut him off. "I had to beg you to look at the scene earlier today, and when a junior agent goes behind my back and calls you, you come running?"

Sweets knew where this was going, and knew he was going to have to chime in. "Agent Harris, it was my idea that Agent Burns call Dr. Brennan to consult with her on this case. She and her staff at the Jeffersonian are quite adept at assisting with investigations in this way, and as it turned out, she was able to eliminate the victim's boyfriend as a suspect."

Brennan didn't know if she was impressed by the authority Sweets exerted over Agent Harris or embarrassed for Harris that he allowed Sweets to exert authority over him. And then she replayed the former statements in her head, and said, "Wait, it was your idea to call me to the FBI, Sweets?"

For all the authority Sweets had over other agents, Brennan could make him flinch as easily as Booth could. "I thought you could be helpful to the case," he said in his most innocent voice. "And I figured you wouldn't come if I called you."

"At least your instincts were right about that last part," Brennan mumbled loud enough for Sweets to hear as she turned back to face Agent Harris. "The suspect you brought in did not have the range of motion to create the stab wounds found on the victim. He did not kill her," she stated.

The men stood quietly, as if they were waiting for her to say more. "Now, if you will all excuse me, I have to go." She nodded towards Burns and glanced at the other two men with an annoyance present in her expression before turning to leave.

She made her way back to the safety of the elevator and it almost closed as a hand shot through the doors. "Dr. Brennan, I'm sorry I used less than honest ways to engage you in this case," Sweets said, stepping into the elevator with her. Brennan stepped to the opposite side of Sweets as she repeatedly pushed the button for the lobby.

"I just thought that this would be the kind of case you would normally be excited to work on, and I know you haven't worked in conjunction with the FBI since Agent Booth left…" he said as she shot him a steely glance. "…and I also know the suggestion to investigate this case wouldn't go over well if it came from me, seeing as how you haven't returned any of my calls in a month."

"I'm no longer partnered with an agent of the FBI, Dr. Sweets, therefore, am no longer required to return your calls. And I haven't been interested in investigating murders for quite some time now." She stared at the elevator floors screen as it counted down, wondering why this elevator was moving slowly today of all days.

"It's just temporary that you don't have a partner, as Agent Booth will be back in a few months. What do you mean you're not interested in investigating murders anymore?"

"Eleven months. That's almost a year until Booth returns, and that's a year through which I won't have to see an FBI shrink to keep my partnership intact, because there is no partnership at the moment. And it's not like I want to continue being studied for your fallacious manuscript." She pushed the lobby button again, as a distraction from looking at Sweets during this conversation.

"Dr. Brennan, what did you mean that you're not interested in investigating murders anymore? Is that why you were contemplating leaving the Jeffersonian?"

She remained silent, with her feet focused on the floor.

Sweets stared and decided to try a different approach. "Dr. Brennan, I would like to think that over time, despite your lack of trust in what you refer to as my soft-science, that we have not only built a relationship as doctor-patient, that we've also developed a bond, as friends." _Finally_, she thought, as the elevator bell dinged as she reached the lobby.

"At least, I consider you a friend." Brennan started to walk out of the elevator as if Sweets wasn't speaking directly to her. But the young doctor followed in step. "And with your two best friends out of the country, I would like you to know that if you ever want to talk, as friends, I'd really enjoy that. Dr. Brennan…" he said, each word said with more exasperation from her quick walking. "Dr. Brennan!" he said, reaching to put his hand on her shoulder.

Brennan sighed with frustration and spun around so fast Sweets ran into her. "I don't know what you want me to say Sweets. _Yes_, many people in my life are currently away. _But_ they will all come back. I really don't see the need to dwell on this issue any further. And from time to time, it is possible that I can think of you, not so much as a psychologist, but as a friend." Sweets perked up and smiled at her almost-compliment.

She put her hand up to end his smile. "However, I believe your intention right now is to study my emotional response to this situation rather than to serve as a friend. That poking and prodding, the need to manipulate me into coming to FBI headquarters to study my reaction to this situation. I'm certainly not an expert in relationships, but I don't believe friends _study_ each other."

She shifted her bag on to another shoulder as she checked her watch. 3:40 pm. "If you'd like to have lunch sometime and engage in friendly conversation, call my office and we can set that up. But don't call with the intention of studying me any further. I find it quite tiresome and annoying, Sweets." She started to walk away backwards, finishing her thought. "And if you need consultation on a case, you might try a direct approach by calling me yourself rather than tricking me into it. I believe I know a psychologist who would say a direct approach is always best."

Sweets waved with a half smile, thinking his psychological mojo was thoroughly emasculated. His head dropped towards the floor, as she left his view. _She wasn't wrong,_ he thought. He was not being direct with her and he wasn't her doctor for the time being. He still had all of the same concerns he did before, but he was going to have to approach her differently.

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_Hey you awesome readers and reviewers! Sorry on the delay in this latest update. I made it extra long to make up for the fact that I won't be able to post again for another week. But, what comes next makes me giddy… and I think you'll like it too. I hope at least. The only way for me to know if you like it so far is to clicky that little Review button just below these words. Come on… you know you wanna!_


	15. of Booths and Bones

_**Author's Apology: Umm… I'm so so sorry? I'm a really bad first-time out fan fiction writer, cause I **_**hate **_**abandoned stories. And from the messages I've gotten this summer, that's exactly what you think I've done. And I feel TERRIBLE for that. But, I'm here and I have chapters written as proof the I've not abandoned ship, and the new season's finally upon us, and my enthusiasm about the first episode back was enough to kick my butt into gear.**_

_**In my defense, I've spent the summer in D.C., staking out a coffee cart (or working a real job), only to find out that B&B got back early, met closer to the Hoover, and Booth has a chip on his shoulder. All that stake out for no reward. **_

_**Now, I'm back home, away from the craziness that was my summer, and I have chapters to this story done and ready to go! And several other stories, mostly one-shots, that I penned (or keyed, technically) over the summer. I've had fun writing all summer, but I've been terrible about posting… anything. So, if you don't hate me or this update… maybe stay tuned for other stories that I'll post this weekend. :-) **_

_**On the bright side, much like my lack in writing, this story jumps a few months from where it left off. There are no season six spoilers in here… I won't deal here with the blonde-who-shall-not-be-named… so when you last read, Booth left for Afghanistan, but Brennan backed out of Maluku at the last minute, and Booth wants to figure out why. There's been a strange murder or three that you're going to learn more about in the coming chapters, and well… you may want to reread just a little bit if this story's left your mind. And again… apologies. But my wonderful beta, wwinger32, assures me that you'll really love these chapters if you give it a chance. And I'd love to know what you think… so here begins the end of a long dry spell for this story.**_

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**…of Booths and Bones**

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_(Three months later. . .)_

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"Humerus. Ulna. Radius. Carpals. Metacarpals. Phalanges. Right?"

Brennan looked up from her thoughtful study of the latest victim in the bone room at the smiling blonde with a charming smile she could not resist, who was patiently waiting for her approval. Of course, the skeleton he was studying had been cleaned by interns already, so she saw no harm in conducting an anatomy lesson here.

"That's right, Parker. And what's the humerus connected to?" she asked.

"The shoulder blade, which is called…" he paused to think, before he confidently stated "the scapula."

"Correct again." She smiled back at the precocious boy, which was all the approval he needed.

"Now, what are the names of the individual bones that make up your wrist?"

'_The carpal bones.' _Parker thought. He began to identify lunate, triquetral, trapezium, trapezoid, capitates, hamate, and pisiform bones on the table, wearing latex gloves and a blue lab coat, just like all the squints wore, except that she had an intern make a few adjustments to shorten his official Jeffersonian jacket. Parker wondered how freaked out his Dad would be if he knew that Bones let him observe the dead people she worked with so closely. It wasn't like she let him touch them, except on a couple of occasions. But he got to look at them as long as they were past the "squint-only" stage, as Cam referred to it.

Brennan continued to monitor Parker's recitation of the skeletal system as she observed strike patterns of the latest murder victim the FBI had tasked her with. A young female, in her early to mid-20s. Neither was aware that they were being quietly watched from a distance.

He wasn't supposed to be back to D.C. until Wednesday morning, but he decided to sneak his way off-base and on to an earlier flight in hopes of getting home with the element of surprise. His heart jumped when Rebecca told him where he could find Parker, and he felt unexpectedly nervous when he walked into the Jeffersonian for the first time in months. And then his knees weakened as he witnessed the sight before him. Except for the fact his son was inches from a dead person, which is definitely something he would be discussing with Bones later. But he wanted this moment to last as long as possible. He couldn't quite hear everything they were saying, but it was obvious to him that Parker had just made a joke that she didn't understand. And that just led to more laughter between his two favorite people.

In the three months that had passed since Booth learned Bones was still in Washington, Parker and Brennan had established a regular schedule. Becca told him how grateful she was that Dr. Brennan made the time for Parker, given her busy schedule and the fact that hanging out with Bones, as Parker would say, was kind of like hanging out with his Dad, but with more science. In nearly six years since their partnership had begun, Parker had gotten used to Bones being a part of the package, long before Booth realized there was a package at all. Even though his son's proximity to real bones made Booth a little squeamish, he realized that it was bound to happen with all the time he spent at the Jeffersonian.

His eyes moved from his son to his partner who had paused, hunched over a body, to roll her neck from side to side. He knew that meant she had already spent considerable time studying this body, but the determination on her face meant she was nowhere near done. He felt a combination of relief and fear as he watched her work. Relief that she was here, just a few feet away from him, doing what she does best. And fear about her reaction once his presence became known.

He had started dialing her number a hundred times, and his inbox would provide proof of the dozens of e-mails he had started to write, but couldn't finish. He wanted so badly to know why she was still here. He left D.C., reasoning it was because he needed space from her, but he really only left because she was doing the same thing. He couldn't stay here if she wasn't here. He knew between Hodgins' long-winded explanations, Cam's sparring words, and Angela's frustration with him, he was somehow to blame for her current location. It was at times like this that he wished women did come with a manual.

"Bones, you said that there are bones in my ear, but why does it feel all squishy?" Parker asked, tugging and twisting his own earlobe to show her there were no hard bones inside.

"That's because your ear bones are inside your ear, not outside of them." She put the femur she was studying down and waved for him to come near her. She bent down to whisper into his ear. "The ear bones are the coldest bones, because they have to vibrate back and forth in order to create sound waves for our brains to interpret."

"The coldest bones?" Parker asked, while sticking an index finger in each ear. "They don't feel cold."

"I don't mean that they are cold as in temperature. I mean that they are the most interesting bones," Brennan replied.

Parker started to giggle incessantly. "Coolest bones, Bones. You mean they're the coolest bones in the body," he said while clutching his sides, laughing harder.

Brennan frowned. "Isn't that what I said?"

"Oh, Bones, you crack me up," Parker said through his giggle fit.

"Is cracking up a good thing, because to me, it doesn't sound good?" Parker continued to laugh, and despite her lack of understanding for his terminology, his contagious giggles made Brennan laugh too, which led her to grab and tickle him, which only made him laugh harder. "Okay, Park," she said as he released him so he could breathe normally again. "Tell me what those cool bones are called?" she said smiling.

"The hammer, the anvil, and the stirrup. I always thought those bones had the weirdest names."

Brennan and Parker both looked toward the man who had answered the question, and both of their jaws dropped when they saw him standing there.

"What?" Booth said, grinning, shrugging his shoulders innocently. "I've learned a thing or two about bones in my years."

"Dad!" Parker cried as he ran at full force in to Booth's arms. Booth grunted as his not-so-little boy landed in his arms and he rocked him back and forth with a vice grip. He closed his eyes for the first few moments of the hug, and as without releasing Parker, opened them to directly stare at Bones. He thought Parker's hug must have lasted minutes, but as he looked at Bones still frozen in place, he figured time was playing tricks on his mind. He chuckled for a moment as he wondered whether she was shocked to see him or shocked that he knew the names of the bones of the inner ear.

"You have any idea how much I've missed you Bub?" Booth asked, still holding his son while looking at Bones. But Parker commanded his attention.

"Not as much as I've missed you," he challenged. "I thought you weren't supposed to be here until tomorrow?"

"Are you complaining?" Booth asked, as Parker shook his blonde curls furiously. "No way!" he exclaimed.

Booth put Parker down and put his hand on his head, to ruffle those curls. Then he nervously flashed his best and brightest version of that Booth grin he was so well known for and said "Hey, Bones."

Every muscle in her body had tensed when she realized he was in the room and she was overcome by many emotions. Confusion that he was early, relief that he was alive, joy that he was here, fear of what he'd say about her lack of relocation to a dig site across the world and frustration that this was the first time she'd seen or heard from him in months.

In a moment which she would later conclude to have experienced a momentary lapse of cognitive brain function, pushing all of her emotions aside, she took the quickest four steps of her life and threw her arms around him.

Booth took a breath and sighed with relief as he returned the hug, placing his arms tightly around her and inhaling her scent. This wasn't the reaction he was expecting, but he would gladly take it. And almost as soon as he started to find himself relaxing with her in his arms, she abruptly pushed her way out of their embrace.

"Welcome back," she stated, as she removed the latex gloves she had been wearing, and walked to the other side of the room to retrieve a new pair. "Parker, since your Dad is here, you should gather your things from my office so you two can get going."

"Dad, you have to come to dinner with us. Me and Bones were going to the diner after we were done examining this victim." Parker turned to Brennan and asked, "Bones, did we figure out what killed her yet?"

"Killed her? Whoa, Bones, is this a _murder _victim?" he asked in a whisper, as he tried to cover Parker's ears, but Parker rolled his eyes and swatted his hands away to hear every word.

"I don't know whether her death was accidental or not, yet, Booth. Parker was just studying the skeleton to memorize the skeletal system for his biology test while I determined cause of death," Brennan said flatly.

"Bones!" Booth said, as Parker giggled.

"What?" Bones and Parker said simultaneously, looking at him with identical expressions. Parker tore his Dad's hands away from his ears and walked towards Brennan.

"To answer your question Parker," Brennan said, ignoring the face Booth was making, "No, we haven't determined what killed her yet, but we do know how she died."

"Was she struck with a baseball bat like that one intern thought?"

"No, a baseball bat is too big. But whatever it was, it caused the blunt force trauma that we saw on her skull."

"Here," Parker said pointing to one area of impact, "and here, right Bones?"

"That's correct, Parker."

Now, it was Booth that was frozen in place. "So, it's still possible that she was struck with something. Or maybe…" Parker stopped and put some serious thought in to his answer. "Maybe she could have fallen and hurt her skull in two places that way?"

"Very good, Parker, that's definitely one possibility," Brennan said with a smile. As she returned to continue with her examination, Parker saw the shocked expression on his Dad's face, and stepped in before he could say anything.

"Dad, seriously you have to relax. I've been to the Jeffersonian a hundred million times and I've seen lots of dead bodies. It's not like this one is any different than all the ones hanging out in the museum."

"Parker," Brennan said with a warning tone.

"Sorry Bones. A hundred million times is an exaggeration that Bones says Booths are famous for, though I have been to the Jeffersonian a lot more than most kids my age. What I meant was it's not any different to see bodies in this state of skeletonization than it is to see a skeleton in the bodies section of the museum. Of course, I know all bodies are different to various degrees because they were all different people at one time." Parker looked at his Dad and smiled. "If they weren't all different, Bones wouldn't have a job."

A satisfied smile crept into the corners of her mouth as she listened to the little boy correct his hyperboles while defining the importance of her job. The other adult in the room couldn't wipe the look of shock of his face. _Did his son just speak "squint?" _

Brennan spoke without looking away from the victim. "Parker, you should go get your things and go to dinner with your father. I have some more work to do here and you can start catching up with your father."

"But Bones, _**we**_ were supposed to have dinner, so you should come with us. You haven't seen Dad either for a few months." The adults exchanged a quick look, and Brennan quickly looked away.

"It's alright, Park," she said, her eyes focused solely on the ribs she was holding. "I'm sure you guys have lots to talk about. Remember how you wanted to talk to him about last night's game with the Philistines?"

"Phillies," both Booths correct simultaneously.

"Right, well, I won't understand all of that sports talk. So you should go and we'll catch up next week, when you can tell me how your anatomy test went."

"And then you'll help me with my science project, right? You promised that we'd…"

"Of course we will. Just remember to bring the rules for the fair and so we can ensure it fits the specifications for your grading requirements. I'll see you Tuesday."

"Okay. Thanks Bones!" He ran to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She moved away from the table to engage in the hug as well.

"Come on Dad, we've got to get my stuff, then milkshakes," Parker exclaimed. He grabbed his Dad's arm and started to drag him away from the table, completely unaware of the tension between the adults in the room. Booth began to follow Parker in a speechless daze. Suddenly, he snapped out of it and said, "Parker, go get your bag and then we'll get going."

Booth didn't know what was shocking him more. The way Bones and Parker interacted? That she was letting anyone, much less a child, this close to her work area, to her skeletons? That she let his son near a potential murder victim and discussed possible scenarios of the case with him? Or the fact that Parker comprehended Bones' work like he was one of her squinterns. He knew he had to replace his shock with words or actions, but as Parker started to run to get his bag, the right words weren't coming.

"No running!" the adults shouted simultaneously as Parker sprinted from the room. In that shared statement, her eyes had met his for only the second time that day. She paused, unable to break eye contact.

"Uh, Bones, are you sure you don't want to come out with us?" Booth stammered.

"I can't Booth," she said, looking back to the skeleton. "I still need to get my initial report to the FBI this evening."

"You're working with the FBI. On a case?" Booth asked, his hurt betrayed in his voice.

"Death didn't stop happening just because you aren't here, Booth," she stated with a hint of harshness in her voice that struck Booth. "This potential murder victim is only the third victim I have helped the FBI identify in as many months because the condition of the bodies in all three cases required my expertise."

"Are the cases related? Are you working a serial killer case?" he asked as his protective alpha-male voice started to rise.

"I'm not working multiple cases, Booth, just identifying three separate bodies so far. Someone is killing young women and their profiles are similar according to Sweets, but neither my factual conclusions nor Sweets' soft science profiling can definitively say that these cases are related. It's a possibility, but we don't know anything for sure, yet." She knew she should stop herself from saying the next part, but she didn't have that kind of control of her tongue at the moment. "I can't very well wait nine more months to stop a killer or killers, Booth. So lose the disapproving tone in your voice, and go have dinner with your son."

"There's at least one killer on the loose, murdering young women like yourself, and you don't think that puts your life in considerable danger. Are you forgetting how often our murderers look to make you their next victim?" he shouted, getting considerably angry as she continued to focus on the victim instead of him.

"No, actually I haven't." She said, crossing her arms as her tone switched from frustrated to conversational. "I haven't forgotten that I'm often the target of terrible people. I haven't forgotten that my involvement in bringing murderers to justice often puts my friends and colleagues in significant danger or that I have to deal with traumatic death on a regular basis. But my contract with the Jeffersonian requires that I assist other governmental agencies when they request I do so. This is my job Booth, and I can't stop doing it because you aren't here."

A look of hurt flashed across his face as she continued. "Statistically speaking, I'm in no more danger working on this case than I am crossing a busy street. And my safety is not your concern."

"The hell it isn't. You're my partner!" he said, having moved into position right next to her.

Brennan stood straight up, staring him down. "I was your partner, when you were here."

She gritted her teeth as she saw Booth's eyes drop. "You're not a FBI agent right now," she stated, in an attempt to undo some of the hurt she caused. "My safety while working on these cases is not your concern."

"Your safety is always my priority, Bones," he said in a soft tone, tilting his head to the side in an attempt to make eye contact.

Matching his softer tone, she said "You can't ensure my safety from a military base thousands of miles away. That's illogical." She took a deep breath to consider her next statement. "When you return for good, if you decide to return to the FBI, we can solve cases together again."

While there was a lot about her last statement that he wanted to decipher, Booth just looked puzzled. "Why do you say "If"? Of course I'm going to return. This was just a thing, a sidetrack for a year, right?"

"That's what we said. But it is always your prerogative to change your mind." He moved directly into her space. It wasn't logical, but she could have sworn he was closer to her now than they were when she embraced him.

At nearly a whisper, he started to ask the one question he hadn't been brave enough to ask in months. "Bones, why are you still…"

"I'm ready, Dad!"

Brennan took a step back, and smoothed her hands along her lab coat. "I'll see you next week, Parker. Good luck with your exam," she said, looking past Booth to smile at him, and back to her bones.

He let out a deep sigh and moved towards Parker. "Let's get going, Bub." He looked at Bones as he was walking away, her fists tightly clenched, propping her up as she leaned on the examination table, keeping her eyes focused on the floor beneath her. She may have won this round, but they both knew the discussion wasn't over. Booth found it comforting that after months apart, they could pick up fighting with each other like time hadn't passed. He felt a slight twinge of hope despite his obvious frustration with her at the moment.

Once the Booth boys were out of sight, she took a deep breath and tipped her head back to keep a single tear from being shed. She picked up her notepad and began to scribble the few observations she had remembered making prior to Booth's entrance. Booth had caught her off-guard by showing up a day early and at her lab. She thought she'd be able to avoid Booth for the week he was back in the states. Now, she thought, this week definitely wasn't going to go her way.

_**-B&B-**_

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_**Like it? Hate it? Find it an interesting alternative to whatever fabulous place season 6 is going to go? (Fingers crossed). I'd love to hear your thoughts, if you'd be so kind to hit that review button! : )**_


	16. Spoonology

_**A/N: This is a gift to all of you a patient people who ping me to gently remind me to update. To be fair, only a week went by this time…**_

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Sex. Hovering over a corpse was not the place to be thinking about sex. But there she was, hovering over a decomposing body in an alleyway, thinking of sex. _Snap out of it_, she scolded herself.

She should have been dressed in a proper jump suit to be lowered in to this deep hole in the ground, but the heat was too much. She was more likely to contaminate the remains by passing out on it because of the heat than exposing her skin and hair to the evidence.

She had been in hotter and more humid conditions than this before. Deserts, swamplands, jungles… But at Noon, with temperatures said topping 106 degrees and recent rainstorms causing horrendous humidity, she couldn't imagine a hotter place than the middle of the city on a cloudless day with the sun directly overhead. The body was lying in a closed off storm shaft, sealed off from main lines, but because of the rain and its location in an infrequently traveled alley, she estimated that the victim had been dead for at least two weeks before the smell and rodent activity had alerted those rarely passing by to the body's presence.

While the FBI team on the scene was lowering her towards the body in a harness 20 feet below street level, all she could think about was sex. Because the humidity caused the air to cling to her skin like lips planting soft wet kisses everywhere. And the sweat rolling down her neck and back felt like the gentle touch of fingertips tracing their way down her body.

Then she looked up and saw him. For a moment, she allowed herself to close her eyes to imagine the air as _his_ lips and the sweat as _his_ fingers. And he looked back at her and grinned one of those insatiable grins that always made her knees weak. Their eyes locked as she was lowered further down, into the sewer shaft. Every part of her felt dirty and it had little to do with the body she was nearing. She broke their eye contact, and looked down to the remains as she tried her best to focus on their new victim. But she involuntarily closed her eyes as a new wave of the afternoon heat hit her and she remembered the last time he kissed her_. Turned on while hovering over a rotting corpse. That's a new one, even for me_, Kathy thought.

.

.

"Ugh!' Brennan moaned, throwing her laptop on to the other half of her couch. She had promised her editors the first 10 chapters of a new manuscript in two months. Six weeks ago. Try as she might, she hadn't been able to pull together a single interesting idea for her next book. Everything she wrote, she deleted the next day and started over again. She figured Angela would be back this weekend, and after she had had a day to settle down, she would tell her stories about her trip with Hodgins and help her focus, to put some creativity into this story. Giving her books a little added sex appeal was what Angela did, while Brennan did the casework and science. But the sex kept creeping into the casework as she wrote. _How could that be?_ She wrote these books because of the cases, not the other relationship filler that she'd come to learn others liked most about her books.

She picked up her keyboard and returned it to her lap. She grabbed her glass of wine and took a sip as she contemplated how to fix the story. _Maybe I need to take the sex out of the book all together…_

She returned the glass of wine to the table beside her, and her fingers hit the keyboard. She spent a long moment thinking. _If I kill off Agent Lister, people would have to focus on the case and how Kathy solves it. There'd be no romance to write about. _At the end of her text she wrote _Kill off Andy...?_ and rested her computer back down on her couch.

As if on cue, she heard a knock at her door, cringing as she recognized the force behind it.

Since she was not interested in talking to him, she felt content to ignore the knocking. She wandered back to her bathroom, and turned on the faucet. "He'll go away eventually," she whispered quietly, out loud, trying to calm her nerves. She didn't really believe what she was saying, especially as the minutes passed and the knocking continued, but as she prepared her bath, the last thing she expected was to hear him let himself in.

"Bones?" he said as he entered her apartment, closing the door behind him.

"Booth, what the hell are you doing?" she shouted from the bathroom as she turned the water off and headed for the living room.

"I knew you were home, but you weren't answering," he said sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to look innocent.

"Did you stop to consider that I could have been taking a bath, and just didn't hear your knock?"

"I did stop to consider that, except, I've been knocking for five minutes, and you only started the running the water three minutes ago."

"So, you heard me start the bath, waited three minutes which was ample time for me to get _into_ the bath, and then let yourself in. Isn't that a little Peeping Roy, even for an FBI agent?"

"Peeping Tom, Bones, you mean Peeping Tom," he said while shaking his head.

"So you admit it?"

"No! Of course not," he sighed, growing frustrated. "Listen, you are investigating a serial killer and when you don't answer your door, I'm trained to assume something is wrong. The number of times serial killers have come into your home to try to kill you put the odds in my favor that you were being hurt verses just ignoring my knocking."

"So, why did you wait a whole five minutes to let yourself in then? Obviously, if I was being harmed, an assailant would be more likely to speed up his homicidal intentions if he knew someone was about to come in. In five minutes time, I could have easily have been killed in many different scenarios, and your entrance five minutes later would not have saved me. Your reasons for letting yourself in aren't logical."

"Yeah, well I guess that's me, Bones. A big mess of illogical thoughts and actions. So, sue me."

"I probably could sue you for breaking and entering," she said in a thoughtful tone.

"Not when I have a key, Bones," Booth stated smugly, waving around his keys in an effort to take back the upper hand.

Brennan's hands were firmly situated on her hips, as she pursed her lips in frustration. Moments passed before he could see her defenses crack, as she took her hands from her hips and crossed her arms. "What do you want, Booth?"

"I…" _What was he doing here? _he thought. Coming over here was just an auto-piloted action, and while he knew he had to see her, he hadn't really figured out what to say.

"I wanted to see you, you know. To make sure you were okay. I'm not kidding about you needing to be careful while working on a serial killer case." He shrugged his shoulders and watched as she shifted her feet.

"We don't know that it's a serial killer, and I'm perfectly capable of…"

"Protecting yourself." they both finished in unison. "I know you are Bones, but I'm your partner, and it's my job to have your back. So, knowing that you're working a dangerous case without me, you'll just have to forgive me for being a little overprotective."

"I'm not _working_ a serial killer case, either, Booth, if there is even a serial killer to be hunted. I am merely providing identification and cause of death to investigators. And I'm not even succeeding at that, because I can't identify the weapons used. But I am not investigating these cases and quite frankly, I don't want to. But I can't stop assisting with cases just because you're not here, Booth. It may not be the same kind of work without you here, but I have to do it anyways. It's my job"

"I understand that," Booth said honestly, hoping a short answer would get him the eye contact he so desperately longed for. And it did.

"So, you know that I'm fine. I haven't been murdered or tortured by a psychopath yet today. Now what?" she demanded.

He sighed. "We haven't seen each other in months. I… I missed you, Bones. Is that such a crime?" He shrugged his shoulders.

She looked down at her feet as a slight smirk formed on the edge of her lips. "Well, if it is a crime, I certainly wouldn't be investigating it while you're gone."

Booth chuckled. "A joke! Good one Bones." He took another step toward her, bridging the gap between them in her hallway.

Her smile grew as she looked up at him. "I am quite amusing."

They starred at each other for a moment that seemed to never end. Surprising Booth, Brennan broke the starring stalemate, and closed the two steps between them to issue another hug.

Brennan closed her eyes and let out a sigh of relief as she embraced him. Booth took a deep breath and relaxed for the first time since he flew out of Afghanistan yesterday.

"So, have you had dinner yet?" he asked, hopefully, not quite releasing her from the embrace.

"I had a meal late this afternoon." And out of the hug they slipped.

"A meal in the afternoon is not dinner, Bones. How 'bout I order us some takeout and we can, you know, catch up."

Brennan swallowed forcefully, as she silently considered his proposition.

"I can order the food if you want to finish your bath," he said.

Her face suddenly became flushed as she realized that she was clothed in her bathrobe. "Didn't you already have dinner with Parker?"

"That was like two hours ago, Bones," he said with a chuckle.

She rolled her eyes. "I'll go change, and be back out in a minute. You know where the menus are."

She walked into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. She was feeling a mix of emotions having him here. She needed to pull it together and remind herself that this wasn't permanent. He was only going to be home for a week and then he'd be gone again. _Nothing's changed_, she chided herself, as she made her way toward her closet to change. _He still left._

Booth inhaled deeply after she closed the door, feeling satisfied that he had already started making progress. He was sure she was mad at him and he was sort of mad at her. But getting mad at her out loud wasn't going to get him the answers he needed. He needed to know why she stayed and he was determined not to leave her apartment tonight until he had an answer to the question bothering him for months.

He went to her kitchen to grab the menus and the file folders on her coffee table caught his eye.

"I know you said you're not actually _investigating_ these cases, but you've got the files there," he said, pointing to the coffee table. "Wanna fill me on what you know so far, and maybe I can help get this off of your plate sooner, so you can return to mummies and cavemen. Kinda like old times. You and me, looking at evidence, throwing around theories about who dunnit?" He grinned.

_Damn that grin,_ she thought. A small smile began to form on her lips, and she turned away hoping he wouldn't see it. "I'm not working on these cases, you know. And shouldn't you be spending time with Parker this evening? You have no idea how much he's missed you."

"He's at Rebecca's, and I was there to tuck him in. He has a doctor's appointment early in the morning, then school, so I'll pick him up tomorrow afternoon.

Brennan's eyes flashed with concern, and Booth's heart warmed at her expression before he hurriedly explained. "He's okay, it's just an annual check-up kind of appointment," Booth reassured her. "Besides, I don't really have a place for him to stay, since I moved out of my apartment before I left."

"Then where are you staying?" She regretted asking the question as soon as she said it.

"I'll be in a hotel for a few days."

Brennan's eyebrows raised. "A hotel or a motel, because you tend to stay in really questionable…" Booth cut her off.

"Hey, my room will be fine okay. I don't need much. I have been living in a tent in the desert for months, you know."

"You should just stay in my guest room while you're in town." She immediately pivoted toward the kitchen to grab her phone to order dinner, so she didn't have to look at him as her offer hung in the air. She opened a drawer to see her silverware starring back. She was tempted to rearrange the entire drawer just to avoid having to walk back to the living room.

"Nah, it's okay Bones. I don't want to be an imposition." Booth silently chuckled at her dash to the kitchen where she was apparently in desperate need of studying her spoons, from what he could see.

She thought that Sweets would have something to say about the way he didn't refuse her offer in that statement, but threw it back to her retract or reinvite him. It was almost like he was challenging her to take it back. And she never backed down from a challenge.

"It's really not an imposition. I'm working most of the week and you already have a key. And tonight, we learned that you know how to use it," she said with a hint of sarcasm, not making eye contact as she walked back in, spoonless.

"Funny, Bones." They smiled at each other, the offer seemingly hanging in the air.

He spent the briefest of moments considering the offer. Staying at her place would make it less likely that he'd have to break in throughout the week to see her. She, in turn, would be forced to acknowledge his presence. Plus, he hadn't actually booked a hotel yet, as he was just planning to look for vacancy sign at one of the places near Rebecca's house. Staying here would definitely allow him the time to investigate this rift between them and how to fix it. He couldn't go back to the Middle East thinking about it for the next four months.

"Well, if you're sure Bones, then okay, I'd accept your offer."

Bones nodded silently for few moments, finally saying, "Good, it's settled. Here's the phone, we should get food ordered soon. I'm hungry." At that, Booth smiled and took the phone from her, as she returned to the kitchen to study her spoons.

He glanced down at her laptop beside him on the couch and saw the formatting on the page for what he assumed was her next novel. He looked toward the kitchen, and judging by her serious study of the silverware, he thought he'd be safe to take a moment and peek at what she had written so far. As he scanned the screen, his eyes caught the note at the bottom of the page. _Kill off Andy…?_

His eyes widened and decided to move quickly away from the computer and dial for takeout. As comfortable and normal as their bickering had seemed in the moment, there was still this huge block between them to tackle. _On the other hand,_ he thought, _it's entirely possible that she invited me to stay because she needs to figure out how best to kill Andy off, and why not practice on the real deal…_ Yep. The next week, staying with Bones, at her apartment. This should be interesting.

-*B*B*-

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_**A/N: I miss B&B banter in this new season. Do you? Might you tell me about it with a quickie little "review" below. : )**_


	17. What He Wants

_**A/N: I'm amazed at how many people have this story on alert. And over 100 reviews? *blushes* It's both flattering and nerve-racking. Having said that, this is my favorite chapter so far, and I hope it makes you as giddy as it makes me. Would love to know your thoughts. : ) **_

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"Bones!"

"Tell me how much you want it."

"I really, really want it. I need it. God, please Bones."

"I'm not sure why you're asking God for something that only I can give you," she said smiling, pulling herself as far away from him as the couch would allow while still technically sitting on it.

Booth groaned and moved closer to her. "Please Bones, I'll do whatever you ask. Anything."

"Anything?" she asked with wide eyes and a grin.

Booth rolled his eyes. "A- You are far too excited about the prospect of me doing anything you want. And B- I'm a soldier who's been away at war and it's my first night back stateside, and watch any war movie, Bones. That would mean something to normal people who watch movies. Now give it up, woman."

"I'm a well-respected, world-renowned forensic anthropologist, who also happens to be a best-selling author and not easily manipulated. What makes you think I'll just give into you if you beg me too?"

He leaned further toward her. "Because I'm a good-looking, well-decorated Army Ranger Master Sergeant who also happens to be a kickass special agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and my powers of wearing people down until they do what I want are world-renowned. Plus, Bones…" he whispers near her ear as he leaned over her, nearly in a horizontal position, causing her eyes to close as she absorbed his breath and smell.

"I really, really want it!" he exclaimed, grabbing the container with the last egg roll in it from her hands, held high above her head.

"Booth!"

"Hey, we don't have egg rolls in the Middle East. At least not good ones. The least you could do is allow me this one luxury while I'm back this week."

"I _did_ allow you the luxury of eating the other four egg rolls in a container of seven. At five eggrolls, I fear you're just using the army as an excuse to cow-out."

He scrunched his eyebrows as he worked through that statement. "Pig out, Bones. It's 'pig out.'"

She smiled a satisfied grin, eyes twinkling at her win. "At least you admit it." He grinned back at her, face stuffed full of eggroll, starting to wonder if she might be messing up this colloquial stuff on purpose. She proceeded to another container of food, readjusting her seating on the couch as their near-wrestling match for the eggroll left her in an awkward position.

They continued to eat, now in complete silence. Silence between the two was something Angela would call 'odd' or 'impossible.' Booth kept shoveling food in without fully finishing his last bite to keep his mouth full. Brennan chewed much slower. In between chewing in this busy silence, their eyes would dart to one another, neither sure how to end it.

Brennan came up with the first transition. "It's odd that you're on leave this week, the same week Angela and Hodgins are returning from Paris."

"I thought they were planning to go away for the whole year, like we… like we had decided to." Booth stumbled over his words, but saw his chance to discuss the elephant in the room.

Brennan started gathering takeout containers as she answered. "Well, something changed that made them want to come back. Angela hasn't told me what it is yet, but I assume it'll be the first thing I learn upon her return. I expect, from her excitement about returning to the states from Paris, which is her favorite city in the world, that it's probably good news," she stated, walking into the kitchen.

Booth shoveled the last of the mi krop in to his mouth, and grabbed the rest of the containers to follow her. "That's great, that they're returning. I bet the lab has felt lonely with just you and Cam there."

Brennan paused for a moment to consider her response. "I admit that it's quite different without the whole team present, but Cam and I seem to make do most days. Plus there are still many interns to supervise, and without our usual caseload for the FBI, I'm spending more time teaching between GW and American this semester."

"You were teaching while we were working on cases. How much more time could you be spending there?" Booth asked hesitantly.

"Yes, but my commitment to our casework kept me from lecturing on campus to first and second year graduate students, something I used to do all the time. For the last few years, I've only served as a thesis advisor or internship supervisor to students. Those roles allowed me more flexibility to work in the field at a moment's notice. If I taught or lectured regularly, I'd have to cancel the majority of classes because of they would likely interfere with our field work."

"Yes, but if you always cancelled classes, you'd be every student's favorite professor. There'd be a list a mile long of students waiting to get into your classes," Booth said with a grin.

Brennan frowned. "That is the wrong attitude for any student to have in regards to their higher education. Students should hate to miss class. I know I did."

"Of course you did, Bones. Of course you did." The partners shared a look, as Brennan walked to the fridge and grabbed two new beers. She handed one to Booth, who was now staring at her with puzzled eyes.

"What is it, Booth?"

"Hmm…" he murmured, as he popped the top off of his beer, and took a swig.

"Something's bothering you, I can tell," she stated.

"When did you get so good at reading people, Bones?"

"I can't say for sure, but it was probably around the same time you memorized the names of the bones of the inner ear," she said with a chuckle at his surprised look. "And besides, I don't read people well. I just read you well. Like, for example, when you don't want to answer a question, you tend to deflect it with another question."

Booth stared at his beer for a moment, thinking through what he wanted to say next. Right now, they had eased out of awkwardness and back into their familiar banter. Part of him thought he should just rip the band-aid off and ask her, and the other part considered saying goodnight and leaving it for another day. In the midst of thinking this through, the universe stepped in and decided for him.

"Brennan," she answered after grabbing her phone. "Mmm hmm. Okay. Yes."

She looked toward Booth out of the corner of her eye, not making eye contact, as she walked to the table and wrote down information on a pad of paper. "Yes. I'll be there soon."

She immediately walked towards her front door, and shrugged on a coat as she grabbed for her bag and the case files on the coffee table. "Booth," she said loudly, not noticing he was suddenly standing very close. "I have to go out for a little while, but you should make yourself at home. The guest bed has fresh sheets, and you know where the towels are if you want to shower," she stuttered quickly, as she grabbed the door handle to make her exit.

"Whoa, Bones, where are you going?" he asked, making his close proximity to her known.

"I'm needed at work for a couple of hours. I won't be very long, but you shouldn't wait up or anything."

"You have some 4,000-year-old mummies that need your immediate attention right now?" Booth asked. Her lack of immediate response, led to his next statement of "I didn't think so. I'm going with you."

"Booth, be serious. You're here on vacation and you're on sabbatical from the FBI. You can't just walk on to a crime scene. You are currently the equivalent of a civilian."

"FBI agent on extended leave for military service, Bones. I'm still FBI."

"Not on this case, you're not."

"Bones, I want to go with you. Even if I can't participate, I can at least observe, and make sure who ever the jackal is they sprung on you is treating you… and your crime scene, with the utmost respect."

"No, you want to go so you can be my over-protective, alpha-male _gun_, and protect me from the big bad things or people I might need protecting from, except that I can protect myself. Which you can't do because you don't have your gun or your badge."

Booth ducked down, not enough to give up his leverage on the door he was currently keeping shut, but enough so that he could reach his ankle holster. "See, I can still be your gun," he said with a smirk, flashing the well-hidden .22 caliber piece.

"I'll be just fine, thank you," she said, as she pulled out the oversized, almost circus-like revolver in her purse.

"Geez Bones, you could kill someone with that!" Booth said, taking a step back from her bag.

"And I suppose your tiny gun, when fired, just gives people a funny feeling?" she asked sarcastically.

Booth couldn't help but laughed, and Brennan tugged on the door to make her escape. But Booth kept his firm body weighted against it, preventing her success. "Booth, you're going to make me late. I need to go."

"Okay," he said, opening the door for her, forcing her to pass underneath his arm to get out. She made a break for it, only to hear him locking the door with his key. "So, where are we going?"

"I'm going to a crime scene. You're going back to Afghanistan."

"Not for another week Bones," he said, silently chuckling when she groaned. "Do you not want me to come with you because you like the other agents you're working with?" he asked suddenly, as a wave of self-consciousness hit him.

She scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. Agent Harris is an idiot." She stopped suddenly, putting her hand up to Booth to stop him in his tracks. Her hand hitting his firm chest was an inadvertent side-effect of stopping.

"Booth, how did you get here?"

"Like on this Earth, or…"

Brennan rolled her eyes. "How did you get to my apartment?"

"I took a cab from Becca's."

The grin that grew on her face suddenly made Booth worry. "Fine, Booth, you can come with me," she said and turned toward her stairwell to leave.

Flummoxed, Booth made his way to catch up with her. "Why the sudden change of heart, Bones?"

"Angela says it's a woman's prerogative to change her mind without sound explanation."

"Regarding everyone woman who's not Temperance Brennan, I'd agree with her."

By this time, they had both walked to the driver's side of her car. Suddenly, Booth understood her willingness to let him tagalong.

"Ah, come on Bones, let me drive," he whined, as he stood by the driver's door, blocking its opening and wearing his best charm smile.

"My car, my crime scene Booth. You're just coming to _observe_, right? So, you'll have to _observe_ me drive, too." She put both of her hands on his chest this time, suddenly enough that he took a couple of steps back when met with her slight force. She climbed in and sat in her driver's seat, looking up at him as she grabbed for the door handle.

"Well, are you coming?" She laughed as she heard him muttering on his way to the passenger's side.

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**-*B*B*-**


	18. Chapter to Soon Be Replaced

**It wasn't who you wanted on the phone, was it? I know, I know. But I bet you're intrigued. And I bet I'm getting closer to answering a question you've been wondering about. **

**Bones = not mine. But I'll willingly own your love and hate in the reviews section (hopefully more love than hate, but all are welcome).**

**Take me out to the ball game**

Brennan made her way through late-afternoon Washington traffic like it didn't exist. Suddenly she felt a little joy as she made her way to a park she'd been to more times than she could count, which was strange considering she had no children of her own to take to the park. But a very special boy often played his little league games at the park's baseball diamond, and she found herself looking forward to seeing the boy play yet again. She had come to grips with the idea that she would not be seeing that charming young boy for quite some time, and her heart was suddenly aflutter knowing she was on her way to spend the afternoon with him.

As she pulled into the park, she immediately saw the boy's mother, standing close to the edge of the diamond, talking on her phone. She spotted Brennan getting out of her car, and abruptly ended the call to head towards her.

"Dr. Brennan, it's good to see you."

"Hi Rebecca, and please, it's Temperance."

"Temperance," Rebecca corrected. "Again, I'm so sorry to have called to bother you, as I'm sure you're busy, but if I don't get back to work and fix a sudden catastrophe that happened in my absence, I'm really afraid I won't have a job tomorrow. And I couldn't reach anyone else."

"It's my pleasure to watch Parker while you go back to work. I can't imagine that suddenly becoming a single parent has been an easy adjustment." Rebecca flinched at her statement.

"I never knew just how much I depended on Seeley on a regular basis until suddenly he wasn't here every day to help me with Parker. But what I'm going through isn't nearly as bad as how Parker is feeling, reacting to his Dad being gone. That's part of the reason I thought of you. You're Seeley's best friend and Parker loves you…" Rebecca's voice trailed off as she saw Parker step up to bat.

Parker looked to find his Mom and saw her standing with Dr. Bones. He smiled that huge Boothy-grin that Brennan knew could be as fiercely charming as his father's. Both women waved at him, and let out a simultaneous "GO PARKER!" as he stepped up to the plate.

"Anyways, I should be done with work no later than seven, and I can pick him up from you at the lab or meet you somewhere else."

"Sure," Brennan replied. "Just call me when you're ready, and we can figure out what would be most convenient."

"Oh thank you, thank you again," Rebecca smiled gratefully, and handed over Parker's backpack. "He has a change of clothes in there, as well as his math homework." Rebecca started to walk away, but stopped to add, "and his cell phone is in this pocket as well."

"Parker has a cell phone?" Brennan asked.

"Yes, he just uses it for emergencies and calls with his Dad while he's away. Seeley normally calls on Tuesdays, around 5:30 to talk with him. The phone is fully-charged, so he should be fine."

Brennan had a blank stare on her face as she realized today was Tuesday and Parker would be with her when Booth called him tonight. To her knowledge, Booth did not know she was in D.C. If he didn't know, it would come as a shock to him that she was not just in the city, but also at his son's baseball game.

Brennan exchanged final goodbyes with Rebecca, and headed towards the bleachers with Parker's bag. Parker had gotten "walked," terminology that Booth had to explain to her at one point. When the pitcher couldn't get the ball across the plate within a certain geometric range, the umpire would call "BALL!" After four "BALL" calls, the batter was immediately "walked" to first base. She could tell Parker was disappointed that he did not have an opportunity to hit the ball, but he stood on first, ready to run as fast as his small stature would allow to second base. He saw Bones watching him, and he waved excitedly. Her wave was interrupted by the crack of the bat, as the baseball made its way into left field. Parker took off running towards second base, while trying to maintain eye contact with the ball behind him. When the ball hit the ground, Parker ran even faster.

Once safely on third base, he turned around and looked at Bones again, smiling that smile, looking for her approval. She clapped, cheered and made other noises she would normally find obnoxious. But when she looked at that little boy, reveling at his pride in his athletic talent, she thought his smile could melt a heart. Metaphorically speaking, of course. She knew very well that Parker Booth could get away with just about anything by staring at you with his starry eyes and flashing a crooked grin. She knew exactly where he learned those traits, too. Genetics helped, but that little boy had all the charming personality of his father.

Brennan was experiencing the same muscle tightening and rapid breathing she had become accustomed to when she thought about Booth. But she would not allow herself to cry. Not here, not now. This afternoon, she was focused on that sweet little boy who, at the sound of the second crack of the bat, made it barely half way from third base before slamming on to his side and finishing the last half of the trip to home plate in a forceful slide. And he scored.

Brennan jumped to her feet, shouting and cheering for Parker at the top of her lungs. She realized just how much she had missed seeing Parker on a regular basis. Maybe she couldn't see his father right now, but Parker brought her a certain amount of joy that covered the gap Booth left in her life. Even if it was a temporary patch over that empty feeling.


End file.
